The Snow Queen: Love and Duty
by Halm Vendrella
Summary: Sequel to Frozen: The Snow Queen. In the first year of her reign, Elsa has confronted her doubts about her powers and made new friends for her kingdom. Now she is faced with a new challenge that threatens the safety of Arendelle: one that will prove that not everything is black as night or white as snow, and even the most powerful magic can do nothing to solve a world of grey.
1. Prologue: Letters

**Frozen is the property of Disney.**

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><p><strong>*AN* - **If you've just come from reading _Frozen: The Snow Queen_, the text of this chapter is identical to the epilogue posted there. If you've read that, please feel free to jump straight to chapter one.

If you've not read the first fic at all, please check my profile. I've made an effort to provide some recap and highlights where appropriate, but this is not intended to be a standalone tale. Many events, characters, and locations from _Frozen: The Snow Queen_ will have great significance to this story.

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><p><strong>PROLOGUE<strong>

**Letters**

September dawned on Paris unseasonably cold and dreary. It brought with it a fitful precipitation that did nothing to improve the mood of Bernard Maret as he disembarked from his carriage and made his way inside the French Foreign Ministry. He shook the damp spots from his overcoat with a grim determination that helped distract from the aggravating itchiness that plagued his scalp whenever it rained. Silently cursing the powdered wig and the entire lineage of whoever had deigned to invent it, Maret waved aside the greetings of the doorman and receptionist with indecipherable grunts, storming through the halls towards his office with an unapproachable aura. It did nothing to stop the incessant chorus of well-wishers, sycophants, and petitioners that plagued him until at long last his office door slammed shut behind him.

"Wonderful weather, isn't it?"

Maret scowled, shrugging off his overcoat and tossing it at the speaker, who caught it with deft practice and a wry smile. "I'm in no mood for it today, Dominic," Maret growled at his secretary. He stomped around his desk, throwing himself into the massive chair behind it with a weary sigh. He sank into the cushions, massaging his temples and refusing to open his eyes until he heard the muted clink of china.

"The day is young, Minister."

Maret gave a noncommittal grunt as he accepted the cup offered to him. He stirred the steaming coffee, allowing the scent to drive away some of his foul mood. By the time he took a sip, he felt almost sociable again.

"You have a meeting with the Minister of Police in two hours," the secretary said, arranging some of the papers that lined the desk. "Followed by a lunch with the Austrian ambassador."

Maret frowned. "He'll want an update on the emperor's progress, no doubt. I tell you Dominic, the vultures are circling."

The other man paused over a pile of correspondence, raising an eyebrow. "Is it really so bad?"

"Two months in enemy territory, and all the Grande Armée has to show for it are bloody skirmishes and longer supply lines." _And casualty reports that are either too censored to credit or too ghastly to consider_, he did not say aloud. "His Imperial Majesty could be standing at the gates of Moscow as we speak, but if the tsar's army keeps falling back, the Russian winter will do what no force at arms has been able to for ten years. Alexander will never come to terms at this rate."

"News is slow to arrive. A decisive battle may have already happened," Dominic said hopefully. "The war could be over, and we may just not know it yet."

"For better or worse," Maret agreed darkly. "But in the meantime, we must keep the rest of the world thinking we are unassailable. What letters do I have?"

Dominic shuffled through one of the stacks. "An invitation to a ball to honor Marshal Marmont and the Comte de Bonet, who are both in town recovering from wounds taken at Salamanca."

"RSVP, with my compliments." An experienced diplomat, Maret knew that such parties were the best places for him to get any real work done, making his attendance a matter of practicality. It didn't hurt that in addition to being one of the crème de la crème, a Marshal of the Empire, Auguste de Marmont was also one of the emperor's oldest and closest friends.

The secretary set the invitation aside, picking up the next envelope. "Ah, another petition for a meeting from the Spanish ambassador. I believe that's the sixth this week."

Maret stifled a groan. "Is he trying to set some kind of record? Keep him at bay, Dominic. It's impossible that either of us has any good news for the other where the Peninsula is concerned." _I can only contain so many crises at once_, he thought glumly.

"Here's a report from the Minister of the Navy on this month's embargo efforts in the Baltic territories."

"Give me that one. It might have some tall tales I can use to distract the Austrian ambassador over lunch. Did I tell you about last month's report? Some captains were claiming to have spotted ice floes in the North Sea. In _July_." He chuckled. "The fools were better off chalking every loss up to the British blockade. Those stories were at least credible."

Dominic handed over the letter and resumed his progress through the rest of the stack. "Here's another complaint from the Minister of Trade for being left off the guest list on Bastille Day. And… that's odd."

"What?"

"This one is dated from last month. I'll have to have a word with the couriers. It's a letter from Joseph Ducos, one of our foreign emissaries."

Maret snorted. "The junior official we shuffled off to… where was it, again? Arendal? Something like that."

"Arendelle. Actually, sir, the letter is marked both most secret and most urgent."

The minister rolled his eyes. "You read it, then. No doubt the lad Ducos thinks news of the latest goings-on in a petty kingdom is of vital importance to the French Empire, but I have my doubts."

A brief silence came over the office, interrupted only by the rasp of paper or the occasional sip of coffee. Maret finished browsing through the navy's latest set of excuses for their inability to properly police the trade embargo of Britain and tossed the letter aside. But with one glance at Dominic, the minister was given pause by the look of intense concentration on his secretary's face. "What is it?"

Dominic jumped, startled out of a daze by the question. He shook his head, handing over the letter with an expression of mute shock.

Maret's eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me the Norwegians are making more noise about the Continental System." He snatched the letter out of his secretary's hand and began to read.

He stopped. He looked at Dominic. He blinked. And then the foreign minister started reading again, from the beginning.

When he reached the end, Maret placed the letter upon his desk. Still staring at the paper with disbelief, he said simply, "Find me Ducos. _Now_."

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><p>...<p>

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><p>When the foreign minister went storming through the halls of his ministry this time, no one dared say a word. His demeanor was not just that of a man irritated by the weather and the want of his morning coffee. He was furious. The staff on the lower levels of the building were not accustomed to seeing the minister at all, and scrambled out of his path with admirable dispatch. By the time Maret threw open the door to a tiny office on the lowest level of the building's basement, the vicinity was practically deserted.<p>

The man sitting behind the desk in that office looked up, startled at the sudden arrival. Middle-aged, with an impossibly tall nose and short black hair slicked back with a prominent widow's peak, he stared at the minister. A thin, well-groomed beard and mustache framed a mouth that had dropped open into the shape of a shocked O. "Minister Maret!" he gasped. "Please, come in, sit down!"

"What is the meaning of this, Ducos?" Maret waved a wadded sheet of paper in the younger man's face, clenched in a shaking fist.

"Minister? I don't—"

"An official communique of the French Foreign Services, affixed with the seal of our ministry, and stamped for the highest levels of urgency and secrecy."

Ducos' eyes lit up. He practically jumped from behind his desk. "You finally read my report? I had almost feared it lost, to not have heard anything back before now!"

"Read it? I daresay I have! Is this some kind of joke?"

"Of course not!" the younger man protested. "I dispatched that letter from Oslo, hoping to apprise the Foreign Ministry of urgent news while I delivered a prisoner entrusted to my custody back to the Southern Isles. When I returned to Paris with no further word, I tried to make an appointment with you, but I had not yet been granted a meeting with your undersecretary's assistant in charge of scheduling, and—"

"Be quiet, you fool! I don't know whose eyes you're trying to catch, or what promotion you think this drivel entitles you to, but when I receive an official report from a plenipotentiary of the French Empire, I do not expect to read a fairy tale!"

Ducos stiffened with indignation. "Minister, I swear to you, every line of that report is fact. If you doubt me, then ask the representative from the German Confederation. Or Spain! Ambassador Cortez was there himself."

Maret blinked. Cortez had been hounding him for a meeting for more than a month, he'd assumed because of the latest comedy of errors in the Peninsular War. But the ambassador had been more persistent than usual, ever since he'd returned from the side-trip he'd referred to as a "vacation"… a brief journey to attend the coronation of a new queen in Arendelle. Maret stared at the parchment wadded up in his fist with a dawning sense of dread. "You mean… it's true?"

"Every word," Ducos nodded stiffly.

"You're telling me that a girl from a Scandinavian backwater can conjure a blizzard for a hundred square kilometers around herself with _magic?_"

"Please, Minister. I have met Queen Elsa, she is hardly worthy of being called—"

"_WITH MAGIC?!_" Maret roared. The tiny glass panes in the door to the office rattled as his shout echoed away down the hall.

Ducos' mouth snapped shut. He gave the tiniest of nods.

"Do you realize what this means?" Maret was pacing back and forth in the tiny confines of the office, staring at the paper in his hand with sheer awe. "She could blockade every port from Southampton to Gibraltar. She could freeze the Royal Navy in its place. Forget the Russian winter; she could trap any army in any theatre on a _whim!_ The emperor would sell every last one of his marshals to the devil himself for one _week_ with this girl at his command!"

"Forgive me, Minister, but I don't think she would—"

"Oh, no." Maret's eyes, alight with the possibilities, suddenly grew pensive. "Don't tell me, have the British already claimed her? For the love of God, man, please don't tell me she's actually sympathetic to those slack-jawed monarchists."

"Actually, I don't think she has any great love for either—"

"She could ruin us, if so… If word got out, whoever held her leash would own the keys to the world itself. Ducos, who was there? Damn it man, stop gawking and tell me! Who else knows about her?"

"A great many officials were in attendance for the coronation. Myself, as well as the ambassadors for the Confederation of the Rhine and Spain, as I said. Some two dozen regional aristocrats and minor nobles—"

"Hah! Of course! No Dano-Norwegian would have any love lost for the British after they burned Copenhagen. It's even possible our old friends across the channel are too preoccupied by the new war in the Americas to have even noticed…"

"Actually, the Irish had an ambassador present, as well," said Ducos. "A friendly sort of fellow, actually."

"What? What on Earth were the Irish doing invited to such a place?"

"Some distant relations to the royal family, I understand. The queen's younger sister has red hair, as a matter of fact."

"Damn it all. If the Irish know, then so will the British. Eventually. It all depends on who they hate more on a given day, us or each other."

"The whole world will know, eventually," Ducos pointed out. He frowned. "Assuming they place sufficient trust in the words of their envoys."

"Don't be snide," Maret said, giving the younger man a sharp glance. "I tolerate my secretary's sarcasm, but you don't make coffee half so well. Who else have you told about this? Who else knows?"

"I have told no one myself, minister. I did not label my report secret only to go telling everyone about its contents. As for anyone else who is aware, I can give you a full guest list to the best of my recollection. There were few foreign ambassadors present apart from those I already mentioned. Only a loathsome prince from the Southern Isles and a young couple from the Coronan royal family."

"We have plans to make, then. Get me that list, as quick as you're able," Maret instructed. He turned and barreled out of the office, thoughts awhirl with just how this new wild card would come into play. "When word of this spreads, the young Queen of Arendelle will find herself with a great many people interested in the fate of her little kingdom."


	2. Chapter One: Anniversaries

**This chapter is dedicated to parents, and the children who have lost them.  
><strong>

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><p><strong>CHAPTER ONE<br>**

**Anniversaries**

Elsa loved the early morning. Arendelle was so quiet before the sun came up, in those peaceful hours before even the staff had risen to prepare the castle for the day's events. After waking, she often found herself standing for some time before the main window of her bedroom. From there she overlooked the bridge that connected the castle to the city proper and the harbor that connected the city to the world beyond. There were rarely any people to be seen in the predawn gloom, but she knew that when the day began, traffic would be bustling through the gates. As the weather turned, more and more ships would start coming and going from the docks. Elsa didn't need to see them to know that once the tranquility of night had passed, Arendelle would once again become part of the outside world. Just as she would.

A deep, cleansing breath left a faint fog upon the thick glass. It vanished quickly; spring was coming, and winter's chill was relaxing its hold as the nights grew shorter. She was beginning to glimpse the faint pink aura of dawn on the ocean horizon almost as soon as she awoke, instead of when she stole one last look before leaving her chambers to begin the day.

But this day in particular meant something more to Elsa than just the imminent end of winter. She turned from the window and took a seat at her dressing table, reaching up behind her head to slowly undo the twists of her loose braid. Her hands took to the task of brushing her hair with rote efficiency, leaving her thoughts to drift as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror with unfocused eyes.

There was no one day they could use to mark her parents' deaths with any surety. Their ship had left one port and never made it to the next, taken by a storm on the North Sea. Days had passed, and then weeks, hope dwindling until at last the people of Arendelle had laid their rulers to rest. Portraits had been covered with black drapes, and new cairns had been planted above two empty barrows on a hill outside the city. That was the date that had served ever since, for four years now.

Elsa knew these things, though she had not witnessed them. She had spent the entire time in her room, the door locked, watching helplessly as worry and then grief had spread the cold around her, until the air itself had frozen still in despair.

Placing the brush down on the table, she began tying the braid anew. Once that was done, she reached to turn up the light from her bedside lamp. Elsa began applying her makeup, hands once more moving with unthinking habit.

She remembered sitting in this same chair so many years ago, seeing her mother's reflection beside her in the mirror. Elsa and Anna had never had a governess; Arendelle was a small kingdom, but hardly too poor to afford such a thing. No, their mother had simply been too devoted to entrust her daughters' upbringing to anyone else. She had sat there beside Elsa, and with the patience of a saint Queen Emma had forborne to smile as her daughter tried her hand at the first practical lessons of powder and blush and rouge. Trial and error and much giggling from Anna about clowns had ensued, but eventually that battle of womanhood had been won.

Another stage of her morning ritual complete, Elsa turned up a different lamp as she moved into her closet. She browsed through the tidy rows of gowns and dresses, her eyes taking in every shade of blue and grey, her favorite colors, and purple and green, the colors of Arendelle. Her fingers drifted across the rich cuts of fabric.

Her father, incongruously, had been the fashionable one of the family. From every trip abroad he would come back with a new dress for each of his daughters. For every special occasion the seamstresses would be called in and brand-new garments fit and sewn. King James had ruled with a kind and generous heart, and had not been above spoiling his daughters a bit where he was able. So many of the things in Elsa's wardrobe, even items she had obtained in the last few years, reminded her strongly of him.

She found herself drawn to one such dress. Like all her clothing the chambermaids had kept it clean and sized, letting out and adjusting the measurements as she had grown. That was fortunate, as this particular dress had been worn only once since it had been made four years ago. Thick folds of wool were dyed a midnight blue that seemed almost black, with a matching shawl and cap. Elsa set aside the accessories and began to change. This time, fear and sorrow would not trap her in her rooms, as they had on the day of her parents' funeral.

The castle was still dark and quiet when she emerged from her chambers. A single guard stood outside her door, admirably alert. "Good morning, Oliver."

"Morning, Your Majesty," he replied warmly. On the older side of middle-age, his thick beard was a bushy brown giving way to patches of grey. "You're about even earlier than usual today."

She nodded. "I have an appointment to keep."

Oliver's head tilted in momentary confusion. "There's nothing on the calendar for this morning. Will you be wanting an escort?"

"No, thank you. This isn't something on the schedule. It's merely… long overdue."

"As you say."

"Did my sister and Kristoff return overnight?"

"No, Majesty. The gates were quiet."

"Very well." Anna had begged for weeks to accompany Kristoff on one of his ice harvesting trips. Once the weather had begun to turn for the better, a quiet word with the young man had been enough for Elsa to accede to the request. And a single nervous question from Kristoff during that conversation had left Elsa anxiously awaiting their return ever since. "They should be back today, then. I'll be going outside the city for a few hours; if they arrive while I'm gone, please let them know I'll be at the barrows."

Realization dawned in the guard's eyes. With a somber expression, he made no move to protest her journey. He had been around long enough to know what this day meant. "Understood. Good day, Majesty."

She left him with a polite nod and made her way to the gates. The purpose of leaving so early was to avoid attention, so she did not wake one of the grooms or take a horse. Her destination was in easy walking distance of the city, anyway. Elsa left instructions with the sentries, just as she had with Oliver. She didn't want Anna tearing apart the countryside if she returned to find the queen away.

She strode through the silent streets of Arendelle just as the sun began to rise in earnest. The town was starting to wake as she left, and her journey went unremarked by a populace in the process of rising to greet what to most was just another day. She passed the church, there leaving the main road out of the city and taking the well-trodden path through the cemetery. Beyond the fences that surrounded the public plots, the ground began to rise into a series of low hills. Their thick grass was covered by the last hints of a light frost, and the tops of the barrows were coming into view as the sun began to drive away the thin fog that shrouded them.

Each barrow was topped by the cairns that marked the final resting places of the past kings and queens of Arendelle. Some had been there for hundreds of years, weathered down into little more than conspicuously tall rocks. Others still stood, inscriptions fading but legible, marked one and all by the three-leafed royal crest. Elsa wound her way through the tiny valleys between the mounds until she ascended a last, low hill. Behind it, the mountains that ringed the fjord rose out of the foothills, their peaks disappearing into the stubborn fog. The hill itself was topped by two tall stones, their carvings as yet clear and unblemished by the slow march of the years.

The world was hushed as Elsa stood there, looking upon her parents' graves for the first time. Even her whispered voice seemed to be swallowed by the low, grey gloom.

"Father. Mother. I'm… I'm sorry I never visited you sooner. Don't think…" she stopped, shaking her head. This wasn't how she wanted to begin. She owed no explanations to these stones. No excuses, only the truth. "I've missed you both. So much." She looked up and away, toward the distant clouds in the veiled sky. "If you're watching, you'll know what's happened. If not, I'd like to tell you a bit. I hope you don't mind.

"I'm queen now. I've tried to remember what you taught me, Father. To be fair, and kind, and good. The people seem happy, so I guess I've done okay. Another winter has passed, and it wasn't so bad." She found herself smiling a bit. "Two winters, actually, if you count a week last July. The weather was worse, then. My fault, really."

The Eternal Winter had almost buried Arendelle. Worse, another piece of accidental magic had very nearly killed her sister. Anna's love for her had saved both their lives, and in so doing had finally given Elsa the clue she'd needed to relieve Arendelle itself. The whole experience had taught her lessons about her powers that she would never forget.

Elsa's smile faded. "My fault. Really. I tried so hard to do as you asked, but it didn't work out so well. My magic is stronger now, you see. I can't hide it anymore. But… I don't have to, either. I can control it, better than I could have ever dreamed of. I know who I am now. The magic is a part of me, and I know who I want to be."

That lesson had been an even harder one to learn. Elsa had witnessed death and darkness in its course, as well as the worst sins that she had seen magic perpetrate. Fire and suffering in the lands of a neighboring kingdom, and a woman who had manipulated the free will of her subjects just to sate her own ambitions. Elsa had seen the magic of Queen Catalina consume the woman body and soul, and sometimes the best example of what _to be_ started with what not to _become_.

"I'm trying to make you proud of that person," Elsa said, looking back and forth between the stones. "It hasn't been easy. I've seen what magic can do. I've… hurt people." She blinked away tears, and behind her eyelids she could still picture the faces. Hear the sounds. See the colors. They still woke her sometimes, in the dark of night. "I never want my magic to hurt anyone, ever again." It was not an idle promise. In her heart, she swore to live up to those words, and let the graves bear witness.

"It helps that I can do good, as well. And to know that I'm not alone." She'd not stopped to give it much thought at the time, but the realization that she was not the only person in the world with magic had given Elsa an odd sense of relief in the months since. She had struggled with keeping her powers hidden for a long while, and knowing that there were others who shared that same burden made it feel just a bit lighter from time to time. Even if her own magic was no longer a secret, it was a comfort to know that she was not quite such an aberration after all.

She turned to her father's tombstone. "Anna and I went to Kristensand last year, you know. We never got the chance to meet your old friend Christian, but we met his children. Uriel is like me, born with magic." Though where Elsa's powers were over ice and snow, his magic was derived from the sun, with the ability to heal and control of heat and light. "Seraphim is…" she smiled. "Queen Seraphim. And a fine queen, at that. I never thought I'd meet a girl more willful than Anna. I wonder how different things might have been, if you'd kept in touch with their family. We're good friends now, though. I get more letters than I can hope to reply to. It's strange… having friends."

Elsa shook her head. It seemed to her that she was rambling, but the words kept coming. It felt good to say them, and she could only hope her parents wouldn't think less of her for her doubts.

"Anna is doing well. More than well. With the gates open, she gets livelier every day. I didn't think it was possible, but she keeps surprising me." Elsa smiled fondly. "With every new person she meets, it's like another candle is lit behind her eyes. She's so good with people…" her smile faltered.

"I wonder sometimes if Anna was the one meant to be queen." Elsa glanced at her father's tombstone, feeling like a little girl confessing she'd stolen chocolate from the kitchens. "The laws, the codes, the procedures, the rules; if that were all there was to it, I'd be fine. But it's not. It's people. Their needs and wants and wishes and dreams. I try, it's just not easy. Anna helps. A lot, really."

That thought made Elsa feel a different kind of guilt. Every angry petitioner she'd asked Anna to distract while she brainstormed a solution, every minister who needed a bit of hand-holding after one of the queen's decisions didn't go their way… Anna had risen to every challenge without a word of complaint. But it was she who had the chance to live a life without being bound by duty. That was the biggest reason why Elsa had allowed Kristoff to whisk Anna away into the mountains for a week. Some ice would be harvested, no doubt; Anna was nothing if not eager to try new things. But when they got back, circumstances would be different. They would have to be. When it came right down to it, Anna was one of Elsa's subjects too. And she had dreams of her own.

"Sorry," Elsa said, glancing abashedly between the two stones. "It just helps to say it out loud sometimes. I can't conceal everything, and trying not to feel just seems to make me feel some things twice as much. I've learned a lot of hard lessons, and some of them mean the things you taught me just aren't enough anymore. I hope you're okay with that."

She would have given anything to hear them tell her they were. She would have given anything to hear them tell her they _weren't_. She would have given anything to hear them at all. But as much as she strained to hear, there were no whispered voices carried on the wind. Even magic could not give her the one thing she wanted more than any other in the world. That was the hardest part. Elsa sniffled a bit, wiping at the moisture she found on her cheeks, not caring if she smudged her makeup. She was silent for a long time, until she realized at last that she had no more to say.

"Well. I didn't come here to mope. Honest. Things do get a little better each day." An idea came to her. "Let me show you."

Elsa raised her hands towards the space between the cairns. Like a stream of falling stars, motes of blue-white light emanated from her fingers as she called upon her magic. Ice crackled and popped in the air as a tall, rounded shape rose from the ground like an inverted icicle. It grew taller, topping Elsa and then even the ten-foot high peaks of the stones. As it grew, the ice split and limbed in a dozen different directions. Each limb grew branches, each branch grew twigs, and each twig sprouted leaves of translucent frost. They rang like so many bells with every whisper of breeze.

With no bark, the tree of ice was unnaturally smooth, but the twists and turns of the branches still gave it the delightful randomness of nature's whim. If not for the pure blue color, from a distance one might have even confused it for a real tree planted between the stones. Of course, no real tree would be accompanied by its own solitary cloud which left a slow, steady trail of glittering snow to accumulate upon the branches and leaves. A few fitful flakes drifted through the cracks, settling around the trunk. It was beautiful, but Elsa felt that something was missing. With two more waves, the grass at the base of the tree vanished beneath a thin dusting of white.

And there in a pair of shimmering statues, two young girls played in the snow. Arms outstretched, smiles frozen upon their faces, they were preserved in the joyous act of rolling powder to build a snowman.

With a wistful, satisfied smile, Elsa turned and walked away, leaving the tiny replicas of her and her sister to be watched over by their parents, forever reunited beneath a winter sky.

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><p>...<p>

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><p>Elsa had not even made her way out of the barrows before she noticed someone coming towards her. Two someones, in fact. It turned out to be Anna, all but dragging Kristoff by the hand. He stumbled behind her, as Anna had started running upon catching sight of Elsa.<p>

"Elsa! Good," she barked, her voice tinged with agitation. "The guards said you'd be out here."

Elsa frowned. This was not the mood she had expected them to return in. Quite the opposite, in fact. "What's wrong?"

"I'll tell you what's wrong! We were having a perfectly romantic time in the mountains, enjoying ourselves. I was learning to carve ice!"

"I see…"

"And then this guy," she yanked Kristoff forward, still holding his hand, "had to go and do something to make us cut everything short and come back right away!"

Kristoff gave a helpless shrug. Elsa, now with an inkling of what must have transpired, was struggling not to smile. Thankfully, Anna seemed too preoccupied to notice. "So what happened?"

"If you'd've let me explain—" Kristoff began.

"Quiet!" Anna snapped. "I told you, not another word until _after_ we've cleared things with Elsa!"

The queen blinked, trying desperately not to laugh. "You made him stay silent the whole way?" Kristoff just nodded, and Elsa had to admire his obedience. Though it was perhaps a bit overdone in this instance, it was a trait that was not to be discouraged.

"So, you're back, and I'm here…"

"Yes!" Anna gave Kristoff's arm a sharp jerk, nearly throwing him at the queen. "I learned my lesson, and I'm doing things right this time. So get her blessing!"

"I already did!" he protested.

Anna nodded firmly, his words quite apparently not registering. "Okay, Elsa, so now – wait, what?"

"I talked with her before we left!" he said with obvious exasperation. "It's why she let us go into the mountains together in the first place."

In all her life Elsa had never before seen Anna completely speechless. It seemed there really was a first time for everything. The princess was staring at Kristoff, eyes wide, mouth hanging open in stupefied amazement. The only sound she managed was a soft, thin squeak from deep in her throat.

"It was a good plan," said Elsa. "I don't think either of us quite anticipated this reaction, though." She looked at Kristoff. "I know it's certainly not the answer you were hoping for."

Her gaping mouth still working itself back into alignment, Anna gave Kristoff a short, sharp jab in the shoulder. "You could have said something!"

"I tried. Many, many times. Until you told me that you'd kick me out of the sled if I said another word before we made it back to Arendelle."

"Perhaps I should give you two some privacy…" Elsa ventured.

"No!" Anna exclaimed. "You, stay there. You," she grabbed Kristoff by the shoulders. "You…" she seemed once more at a loss for words.

Leaning in just close enough to catch Kristoff's eye, Elsa offered a whispered suggestion. "Maybe you should try again?"

He nodded mutely. Reaching up, he removed Anna's grip on his shoulders, taking her hands in his. He took a single deep breath, straightening his back just before he knelt.

"Anna, will you marry me?"

.

.

.

.

.

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><p><strong>*AN* -** If anyone thinks it's a cliffhanger not to show her answer, you _really_ haven't been paying attention.


	3. Chapter Two: Stargazing

**Disney still owns Frozen. I'm just tired of FFnet's formatting quirks messing up my chapter titles.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER TWO<strong>

**Stargazing**

It turned out that all it took to drive away the last of winter's lethargy from Arendelle was the prospect of a royal wedding. The relationship between Princess Anna and Kristoff had hardly been a secret, considering Anna's popularity among the citizens and the couple's near-inseparability for more than half a year. The rumor mill of the tiny community had thrived on a potential match between the personable princess and the honest local boy. From the moment their engagement had been officially announced, the entire kingdom was abuzz.

Elsa could hardly set foot outside the gates without someone asking her about the happy couple, the arrangements being made, or simply to pass along well-wishes. In a strange way, she found herself enjoying not being the center of attention. Even if the people still never failed to notice when their Snow Queen walked among them, Elsa would happily take a dozen harried inquiries about when the date would be set over a dozen gaping stares following her wherever she went. She realized that, for the first time in her life, she was interacting with her subjects with no thought given to her magic by either side.

That small relief was hard to notice in the sheer, surging tide of how busy she was. The everyday matters of council meetings, public works projects, bookkeeping, civil disputes, correspondence, criminal justice, and a thousand other minutiae she was expected to address or at least consider as queen were taxing on the calmest of days. The addition of helping to plan a wedding ceremony, maintaining a guest list, arranging music, decorations, flowers, food… it would have been overwhelming on its own, but this was also a wedding being orchestrated by Anna.

Her sister – who had once considered her nuptials to be the work of a few days and given thought to little more than a basic three-course menu – was no longer operating with the frenetic abandon of one who believed the world could be shut away from her again at a moment's notice. She was sure of herself, at home in a crowd, a princess, and very much in love. Guests, courses, ceremonies, even Elsa's own direct role… Plans changed by the hour, and the only consistency to be found was that the wedding kept getting bigger. In short, Anna was a logistical nightmare.

She was also worth every effort, and Elsa would see to it that her sister had exactly the wedding that she wanted. A little lost sleep was a pittance against Anna's dreams.

Of course, sleep was not the only expense to consider. And so Elsa found herself meeting in her private study with Sebastian, the able steward of the Kingdom of Arendelle.

"Good afternoon, Your Majesty," the elderly man greeted as he walked in. His bow was made a bit awkward by the accounting ledger he carried with him very nearly everywhere. The book was as tall as his chest, and nearly as thick as he was.

Elsa stood behind her desk to greet him. The man was one of her councilors, and had served the kingdom since the rule of her grandfather. He had earned at least that much respect in her eyes. "Good afternoon, Sebastian. Please, sit down."

He deposited the ledger on the desk with a muffled thump as he took a seat. "I appreciate you making some time to meet with me, Majesty."

"Of course. It's no trouble."

"Hmm." He gave her a keen look, adjusting his spectacles as he gazed across the space between them. "I can't help but notice how much of the responsibility of arranging the wedding you've taken on."

Elsa shrugged, setting aside a few of the neat stacks of paper that had been slowly creeping out of place on her desk. "Hardly. Anna is the one with the difficult job, she has to decide what happens. I just make it so."

He chuckled. "Somehow I doubt that it's quite so simple as you make it sound. The princess certainly doesn't think small."

Elsa smiled. That was all too true. "She's never lacked for imagination."

"Yes. That's what brings me here."

The queen nodded. "You have some concerns?"

"Arendelle's treasury is recovering, and as the weather turns and the sea lanes reopen we should see a substantial income from trade compared to last year. Both yourself and Minister Henrik have been quite industrious these past few months."

"The foreign minister deserves most of the credit. All I've done is written a few letters."

"And revitalized relations with our closest neighbor," he pointed out. "I can't remember the last time so much traffic has gone through the western pass."

One of Elsa's winter projects had involved a bit of magical engineering, emplacing protective archways that kept the worst of the ice and snow off some of the mountain roads during the colder months. But with a bit of help from Kristoff's experienced eye, she had made several routes passable that were normally too treacherous to travel for a good portion of the year. Both her kingdom and their neighbors in Kristensand had benefitted greatly from the effort, and she was privately quite proud of the results. "It was certainly easier than trying to keep winter away by myself."

"No doubt. Even so, I would be remiss if I didn't point out the great strain a royal wedding will likely place upon our finances."

"Don't worry, I'll step in if Anna's imagination gets out of hand. But this is my sister's wedding we're talking about. What kind of person would I be if I didn't help her dreams come true?"

"Dreams are well and good, but practical plans are a bit trickier, and paying for everything is another matter entirely."

"I take your point," Elsa said. The steward could seem like a bit of a miser from time to time, but she knew he meant well. "Rest assured, Arendelle's treasury will not be burdened."

He frowned. "Frankly, Your Majesty, even with plans as they stand now I don't see how that's possible."

"Simple tradition, of course. The bride's family bears the expense."

He gave her a shrewd look. "I see. The young gentleman is not of nobility, and might hold little expectation where the princess' dowry is concerned. I must say, that's quite clever—"

"We've discussed this, Sebastian," Elsa said, a hint of warning in her tone. "That money is Anna's. When she marries, it officially falls to her disposal. And as I've told you before, I will not steal from my sister."

"Then how…" the steward paled. "Please, Your Majesty. Please don't tell me you're repeating the same mistake—"

"Mistake?" Elsa bristled. "The 'mistake' you're referring to fed the people of Arendelle this past winter. And has in no small way benefitted our neighbors whose trade revenues you're so looking forward to counting, I might add."

The steward did not relent. "Your Majesty, I beg you. You've already exhausted nearly half of your dower trust. If you undertake the expense of this wedding, I fear that what will be left would not befit a merchant's daughter, let alone a queen regnant!"

"You and the entire council have made your stances abundantly clear on this issue," Elsa reminded him, not unkindly. "All I ask is that you trust that I've not made these decisions lightly."

He blinked. "Queen Elsa, I wish I could do so. But you are placing yourself in an extraordinarily difficult position regarding your own marriage prospects. I would think that now, of all times, with your sister's engagement to a man who brings no practical benefit—"

"Sebastian," she interrupted him sharply. Cold was crackling in the air. "Kristoff is a fine man. He loves my sister deeply, and she loves him just as much. That is all the 'practical benefit' I require."

The steward's jaw was set firmly, and his eyes were unblinking behind his spectacles even as frost began to collect around the rims. "This is not a fairy tale, Your Majesty. Love is a coincidence for those who are born to rule, not their fate. I'm loath to be so blunt, but do you think your own parents married for love?"

That brought Elsa's simmering anger up short. Her magic faltered, the room's dropping temperature normalizing. "What do you mean? Of course my parents loved each other."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Sebastian agreed. His voice was gentler now. "They did have that great fortune. But I was serving on King Magnus' council when he negotiated the betrothal contract. I have records of the terms right here in my ledger. Your parents had never even seen one another until your mother stepped off the ramp of the _Starry Ice_, barely a week before their wedding day."

Elsa had heard the story from her parents often enough. But the fog of childhood memory, as well as the rosy tint of luck that had shaped those who told the tale itself, had always made the truth of the circumstances seem so much less… cold. A small and distant part of Elsa's mind had perhaps known how her parents' relationship began, but she had always preferred to remember them at their best, their most loving. That was what made them her parents.

Sebastian seemed to sense her conflict. "My queen, you should think no less of anyone because they did not experience a grand romance or sweeping courtship. If nothing else, know that on the day you were born I have never seen two people happier in their lives together than King James and Queen Emma. That their love was a fruit of labor does not make it any less real. In some ways, it might even make it more so."

"Are you trying to tell me something about Anna and Kristoff?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. It's not my place to judge, but to ease your heart I'll confess that I honestly believe just as you do."

"Then why your objection?"

"It's not an objection, merely a…" he struggled for a moment to find the right words. "A situation worth comment. Just because what I said seems cruel does not make it untrue. Princess Anna is your sister, but also your heir presumptive to the throne. As it stands, her children will follow her in that regard. While the people of Arendelle are happy for her, and even enamored of young Kristoff for the obvious love they share, you might find that your subjects react to the prospect of an ice harvester's son or daughter sitting in your throne with a great deal less enthusiasm."

"I refuse to believe that the people would be so petty."

"It's not pettiness." Sebastian gave her a sympathetic smile. "It's respect. The age of kings is fading away, but some fundamentally human part of us all still longs to place people on pedestals. Every man, woman, and child wants to believe that those who steer our fates, whether they rule by right inherited or govern by consent of law, are _better_ in some way than we ourselves."

"And what makes the child of a princess and an ice harvester any less worthy of that?"

"Nothing, to our minds," said Sebastian. "And everything, to our hearts. Especially in this place, where we have spent so many years loving and adoring your ancestors – and yourself, if I may be so bold – and being well-loved and protected in return."

Elsa sighed. "Part of me wants to call that foolish. But I know that would be unfair. Still, I don't see why it matters. I'm twenty-one years old. Anna's only just turned nineteen. It'll be a very long time before the people of Arendelle need to worry about anyone else ruling them."

"How easy it is to think so, when one is as young as you are," the steward said. His voice was soft, and for the first time Elsa could detect a great, weary sadness in his words. She noticed that he was not looking at her, but instead an old ring on his left hand, a simple band of unadorned gold. With a start, she remembered that she had never met his wife, or known that he was married at all.

Elsa came slowly to realize that "was" must have been the operative word. "I'm sorry," she said.

Sebastian waved her apology away with a faint, nostalgic smile. "Nora has been gone a very long time, Your Majesty. Almost as long as I've been here, which is a great while indeed. I advised your grandfather for the last two decades of his reign, and your father for every day of his fifteen years on the throne. In that time I've come to think of your family as part of my own, and served you as best I can. If you can forgive such familiarity, I thought of your father as a son. Which I suppose means I can't help but think of you a bit like a granddaughter."

Elsa gave him a kind smile. She'd been so isolated for so long that it had made for a struggle just to regain her closeness to Anna without a bit of practice, but she would not presume to tell her councilor how he felt, or begrudge him his sentimentality. If anything, it helped her to better understand his position. "Is that why you've been so concerned about how I've used my dowry?"

"Perhaps a bit," he said. "But please don't let that cloud the heart of my argument, Your Majesty. Nothing in life is sure. And your actions, even made with the best and most selfless of intentions, remove options that you may regret not having later."

It was her turn to don a sad brand of smile. "You underestimate just how much thought I've given this, Sebastian. Some roads were never meant to be taken."

The steward gave her a confused look. "Majesty?"

"I'm not worried about spending my dowry," said Elsa. "It's only money to me, money that I can use to help my people and make my sister happy. Don't you see? That means more to me than any match I could have made with all the gold in the world. It's the best option I could have ever hoped for it to provide me with."

"I still don't understand."

"It's simple," she explained. "From the moment I realized the money could be used for anything else, I had decided not to marry."

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><p>...<p>

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><p>The afternoon passed as little more than a blurry collection of meetings and interruptions thereof. It was closer to dinnertime than lunch when Elsa finally found a spare moment to escape back to her study for a bite to eat and a few minutes of privacy.<p>

Growing up in near-total isolation had been unpleasant, even when Elsa had believed it to be necessary. But she had never found it quite so exhausting as the polar opposite life she now lived. Solitary tasks like reading or replying to letters could hold her focus for endless hours that seemed to melt away, but hearings with petitioners or debates with her advisors left Elsa feeling harried and drained in no time at all by comparison. She envied Anna and her boundless energy more and more, but was forced to settle for a few quiet moments to collect herself whenever she could snatch them.

It didn't help that she had spent most of the day replaying the conversation with Sebastian in her head. It wasn't as if she was opposed to the idea of marriage on principle. She simply had greater priorities. Elsewhere in the world, many women – especially those born noble – were brought up to believe that their highest calling was to start a family. Elsa had been raised with two paramount duties in mind: to rule Arendelle, and to keep her powers hidden. Anything beyond that had seemed like a luxury at best, or a cruel dream at worst.

She had been all of twelve years old when her powers had grown to the point where she refused to let even her parents touch her, for fear they would be hurt. That fear was tempered now; Elsa was no longer terrified of her magic, nor did she still think of it as a curse. She trusted it, in ways unthinkable mere months ago. It was a tool, albeit a powerful one. And it was a gift, but a dangerous one. It came with edges that could hurt a careless or unwary wielder. For Elsa, it was still a mindful decision each time she went to hug Anna, and a conscious effort not to flinch away whenever one of her subjects moved to shake her hand. A few months of control could not break a decade of habit. Some ice took a very long time to thaw. And some, she thought, never did at all.

Elsa was not unhappy with her circumstances. She had Anna. She had a brother-in-law-to-be in Kristoff, whom she had grown to like and respect. And while Sebastian might think the people would dismiss him as the princess' ice harvester husband, Elsa saw potential there. She had those same people, her subjects, to live for as well, and the last few weeks had proven that they could outgrow their fear and awe of Elsa's magic to see the woman behind it. _No, not the woman… the queen._ For she had her duty, above all. An entire kingdom of hopes and dreams and lives and loves, and her responsibility to keep them safe and protected and free.

Elsa found herself with little appetite for the plate of bread and cheese she'd procured as a snack. Feeling guilty for needlessly bothering the cooks even that much, she set it aside on one of the unoccupied spaces that had been slowly vanishing from her desk. The backlog of letters and petitions had been creeping up on her of late, and they didn't even include the diplomatic messages that went through Minister Henrik's office.

With a sigh, Elsa recalled the particularly large bundle that had arrived with a courier on the _Oberon_ earlier that day. One of the first large vessels to reach port since the onset of the mild spell that now hinted at a turn of seasons, it had no doubt carried an abominable accumulation of mail from mainland Europe. The foreign minister would be hounding her about it soon enough, so Elsa decided to forestall him with a visit of her own. She resigned herself to taking some time after dinner to catch up on her personal correspondence.

Leaving the castle's residential second floor, Elsa made her way up the spiral staircase to the smaller but no less well-appointed third story. The administrative heart of the kingdom, it hosted a few studies and lounges for small or informal gatherings, a suite of offices for those appointed to the ruling monarch's council, as well as the single large room that hosted their meetings. Both the doors and windows of the council chambers had been left open to take advantage of a pleasant day. The room was empty as Elsa walked past, and she detoured briefly to enjoy the view of the fjord from the balcony. Just a glimpse was enough to help her feel refreshed.

As she was turning to leave, she discovered she wasn't alone.

"Hello!" a voice greeted her cheerily.

"Olaf!" she gasped, startled.

The snowman jumped at the surprise in her voice, nearly tumbling from his perch on the far corner of the low, rounded stone wall that surrounded the balcony. "Whoa!" he gasped, twig arms pinwheeling as he regained his balance. Once recovered, he glanced down. "Phew. That was close."

"I'm sorry," Elsa apologized, willing her heart to stop racing. "I didn't see you there." That she'd been oblivious to the animated snowman and his attendant cloud spoke volumes of her preoccupation.

"No problem. It's a lot more fun to slide down the roof when the castle is covered in snow, though."

She blinked. "I'll have to take your word on that."

"Why?" he asked guilelessly. "You should try it for yourself!"

"Maybe some other time. There's no snow now, anyway."

He gave her a look that was a mixture of confusion and contemplation, as though he was trying to decide whether or not she was making a joke. "And that matters to you because…?"

When she realized the implication, she had to laugh. "I'm sorry. I guess I should say I'm a bit busy to go sliding down rooftops at the moment."

He nodded sagely, ambling along the narrow stone ledge toward her. "That's true. Anna told me about her and Kristoff. I'm so happy for them!" He suddenly grew pensive. "I did have one question, though."

"What's that?"

"Is his _last_ name Sven? Because if it is, and Anna marries him, that would make her Anna Sven. And that just sounds _weird_."

"No," Elsa assured him, smiling but serious. "His last name is not Sven."

"That's a relief." Olaf wiped his brow with the back of a hand. Elsa wasn't sure what purpose the gesture could possibly serve apart from theatrics, but she'd grown accustomed to her creation's childlike eccentricities. By now, even most of the castle staff had gotten used to the snowman's presence. "It also would've been strange for Kristoff to give his reindeer his last name. But between you and me, I'm still not convinced that he's not just a bit…" He leaned in, voice softening to a conspiratorial whisper, "…crazy. Have you met his family?"

"A long time ago," Elsa acknowledged.

"That's good! Nice people. Very friendly. Not a whole lot of resemblance, though. Do you think he's adopted?"

"I'm almost certain of it."

"Oh. Well, that explains a lot," he said, nodding. "So if you're not here to slide down the roof, why are you here?"

She sighed, remembering what had brought her to the third floor in the first place. "Just a breath of fresh air, I guess."

"Me, too! Though I don't really breathe. I'm actually here for the view. I'm waiting for the stars to come out. I hope the sky will be awake tonight."

There was not a cloud in the sky, which boded well, but it was also just a bit after four o'clock. "You'll be waiting a while," she warned him gently.

He shrugged, taking a seat on the ledge and tapping an idle tune against the stone with his hands. "That's not always so bad. Everyone needs to take some time to just take time sometimes."

That took her a moment to puzzle through, but she couldn't disagree once she had. "In that case, I'll leave you to it." Minister Henrik would not be in his office much longer if she wanted to see him before dinner. She exited the balcony.

"Don't forget to take your turn!" Olaf called after her.

Elsa was still wondering what he meant by that as she left the empty council chambers behind.

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.

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><p><strong>*AN* - **I am tremendously flattered by the early response to this story. Twenty-two reviews, almost fifty faves and seventy follows! Even for a sequel, I couldn't be happier. Thank you all so much for reading!

I realize that I'm fudging with marriage traditions a bit. The custom of the bride's family paying for a wedding has generally fallen out of style in the western world, and that in itself was derived from the original tradition of dowry. Feel free to consider Elsa's reasoning to be just a bit of creative rationalization on her part. Very attentive readers will also know that Elsa's decision is a Chekhov's Gun I hinted at all the way back in the second chapter of the first story.

And one last quick clarification. While you might have guessed from the prologue, mentions of countries, etc., that this story takes place in a certain brand of history, I will be maintaining the tone from the movie regarding magic. By that I mean people are not incredibly surprised that it exists, they just never expect to see it for themselves.


	4. Chapter Three: Invitations

**Frozen is the property of Disney.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER THREE<strong>

**Invitations**

The office of Arendelle's foreign minister was one of the larger rooms on the third floor of the castle. Elsa thought that was only fitting, as it hosted one of the larger egos on her council.

She had not always seen eye-to-eye with Minister Henrik. As Arendelle's chief diplomat and representative to the world at large, it would have been only natural for him to be a familiar face to the kingdom's allies, as well as an influential voice on the queen's council. However, given Elsa's long seclusion, Henrik had assumed a far more direct role in foreign relations. During the three years of her minority, he had behaved far more like a proxy for the crown than an emissary, and had grown quite accustomed to the situation by the time of her coronation.

He was a fierce – and fiercely effective – advocate for Arendelle. But while Elsa greatly respected his prowess, Henrik had a tendency to be both far more stubborn and far more vocal with his opinions than the rest of her councilors, which had led to their butting heads on more than one occasion. In spite of how little she enjoyed those conflicts, they were why she found herself standing outside the man's office at that moment. If she had allowed him to seek her out about the large bundle of foreign missives that had arrived in the wake of winter's thaw, he would have taken an irritated and combative stance due to the effort. Showing up at his office, in Elsa's view, was one less card for him to play and one more in her own hand.

She was also far less likely to spoil her dinner worrying about another looming argument, which was also to the good.

Elsa knocked on the door, but waited for only a polite heartbeat instead of an acknowledgement before opening it. A simple ploy, perhaps even a bit childish, but it would serve as an immediate reminder of just who she was. One the man had need of on occasion. As expected, Minister Henrik looked up as someone entered the office without his leave. He glared over the top of the solitary sheet of paper he was reading, but schooled his indignation with remarkable alacrity once he realized who it was that had come in unannounced.

The room included a small sitting area, which consisted of two low, comfortable chairs and a coffee table that allowed for meetings with visiting dignitaries while sitting face-to-face. The only other open seats were a pair of lightly-padded wooden chairs, looking rather forlorn as they were loomed over by the minister's impressively tall desk. Elsa wondered if the man kept a list somewhere with a running tally of who merited which reception.

She, of course, took a seat by the coffee table.

"Your Majesty," Henrik said. He rose from his chair until she was off her feet, but made no move to join her. He sat back down, still behind his desk, but the move didn't strike her as the calculated gesture she might otherwise have taken it for. Instead, he merely seemed preoccupied. "This is an unexpected pleasure."

"I found myself with some free time after an appointment with the goldsmith was cancelled. His daughter is ill."

"Nothing serious, I hope."

"Just a bout of chickenpox at the schoolhouse."

"Ah. I expect the apothecary is doing heavy business at the moment."

"Hmm." She nodded. "Though it seems the mail carrier from the _Oberon_ would put him to shame."

Henrik's gaze drifted to a rather impressive stack of hastily-opened envelopes on one side of his desk. He looked oddly troubled. "Yes. Rough seas, cold winds, and now a great many outdated letters from nations I had not expected to hear from."

"Oh? Anything I should know?"

He frowned, the expression pulling at the edges of his greying goatee. "I've only just started reading them," he said evasively. "And I'm sure you have more important things to consider than incoming mail."

Something about the man's demeanor was unsettled, which left Elsa feeling unsettled as well. She decided to play along for now. "Such as?"

"Outgoing mail, of course. Has the princess made any further progress on the invitations? I imagine we'll want to start sending them soon, now that the sea lanes are reopening."

"We'll need a date for the wedding, first. Anna's still deciding whether it's worse to risk a Norwegian spring or wait until summer."

"I imagine inclement weather might be less of a factor for her than most. And if the rumors are to be believed, the more time Her Highness has to plan, the less feasible the plan becomes."

"She's not _that_ bad," Elsa protested, unable to keep a bit of wry humor out of her voice. "The way everyone's talking, you'd think she'd asked for a wedding service officiated by a troupe of dancing bears."

"Pity. That actually sounds like a rather entertaining ceremony. To observe from a distance, of course." Elsa rolled her eyes. The minister held up his hands. "I'm joking. I learned early in the process, just as I'm sure her fiancé has, to simply say 'yes, dear, whatever you want' as often and as sincerely as possible. You're simply speaking to the wrong audience when it comes to those particular details."

"Oh? What details would interest you, then?"

"The guest list, of course."

The answer was wholly unsurprising. "You have some suggestions." It was not a question.

He chuckled. "To put it mildly."

"Anna does enjoy meeting new people, but somehow I don't think that's your motivation at all."

"This event does present an opportunity, Your Majesty, just as your coronation did. It would be a shame to let it pass us by."

The argument was not without merit, and what's more Henrik was making it earnestly, instead of simply lecturing her. Elsa was beginning to wonder if the man was feeling a bit unwell, himself. "A few of our neighbors and trade partners will expect to be invited," she acknowledged. And their friends from Kristensand – or step-cousins, as her sister still jokingly referred to them – had been two of the first names on the guest list. "I just don't want Anna to stand at the altar looking out upon a sea of strangers."

Elsa's experience with that had been bad enough at her coronation, though it was a given that she had not had many familiar faces to look for. She'd also been far more worried about freezing the royal scepter and orb at the time.

"Naturally. Though I'm certain there's really only one or two faces your sister will care to notice when the day arrives. It can't hurt to fill a few seats with friends of your own, in that case."

"That won't be a particularly long list."

The minister cast yet another pensive glance toward the contents of his desk. "We may need to remedy that. And quickly."

Already a long way through a trying day, Elsa found his ominous tone to be the last straw for her frayed nerves. She could no longer bear to ignore the elephant in the room. "What's wrong, Minister? You keep looking at that stack of papers as though you've hidden a body beneath it."

"Would that it was that simple," Henrik replied grimly. He gave her a long, wary look, and sighed. "Your Majesty, I had hoped to have some time to consider matters before bringing this to your attention."

She raised an eyebrow at such an uncharacteristic concession on his part. "It's not like you to be so hesitant with your opinions."

"Perhaps it's best in this instance if you form your own impression," he replied, a little testily. He began leafing through the heap, setting most aside with a glance and others with more careful consideration. He collected the latter, smaller stack, and walked out from behind his desk. He took the seat across from her, offering her one of the papers.

Curious, Elsa accepted it and began to read.

_To Her Royal Majesty, Queen Elsa of Arendelle,_

_Salutations to our most esteemed neighbor! Word has reached Stockholm of your accession to the throne, and the government of Sweden offers our most heartfelt congratulations on your coronation. We would be eager to host your designated representative, to discuss matters of mutual interest and potential friendship._

_Eagerly awaiting your response,_

_Charles John, Crown Prince of Sweden_

Elsa set the letter down on the coffee table, giving Minister Henrik a look of mild confusion. "I wasn't aware Sweden was interested in a diplomatic partnership. That seems harmless enough."

Without comment, the minister merely handed her another letter.

_To Her Majesty the Queen of Arendelle:_

_Recent events in your domain have been brought to the attention of the Kingdom of Prussia. We write to you in hope that you might provide some clarification on the stories we have been told surrounding the events of this past July. It is a request of urgent necessity that you offer us a statement of your intentions, in the interest of amicable relations between our two kingdoms. We anxiously await your reply._

_Respectfully,_

_Frederick William III, King of Prussia_

Henrik was no fool, and neither was Elsa. The flattery of the first letter took on a new meaning with the reminder that these had been written after her coronation. A chill was beginning to settle in the depths of her stomach as she set the second message down on the table beside the first. "I see."

His expression carefully blank, Henrik offered her a third piece of paper.

_To the Queen of Ice:_

_I write to you with a plea of honor and decency. The world is always changing, and by all accounts it is well within your power to decide the fates of many. For the sake of your people, I beg you to carefully consider the nature of relations with your fellow monarchs, and to openly and forthrightly declare any and all intentions you may hold. We look for your statement, in whatever form it might take._

_John, Duke of Braganza and Beja, Prince Regent of the Kingdom of Portugal_

"The vast majority of the letters go on much as these have," Henrik said, as Elsa continued to stare unblinkingly at the note in her hands. "Shuffle the words around a bit, but the point remains the same."

Her hand shaking slightly, Elsa dropped the third letter on top of the other two. Three letters, three tones, one simple message hidden behind the words themselves. "They're… afraid of me."

The minister considered that. "Perhaps." He did not seem too troubled by the possibility.

That only served to intensify the chilled knot in Elsa's stomach. "I knew when the ambassadors left that my powers wouldn't be a secret anymore. I expected people to take notice, maybe even some concern, but this? They may have just learned of my magic, but I've had it all my life. And Arendelle has never done them any harm. Why would they suddenly expect us… me… to be a danger to them?"

"Your Majesty, half of the countries with letters in that mass on my desk had likely never even heard of Arendelle nine months ago. You can practically see uncertainty mixed in with the ink. We are an unknown quantity, and _that_ is what makes them afraid."

"I have to write them. All of them. Reassure them that I'm not a threat, not to anyone."

"That would not do any harm, but I'm not sure how much it would help. Words are wind and treaties are paper," he waved dismissively. "In diplomacy, everything is posturing, and posturing is everything."

His words echoed in Elsa's head as she stared at the three letters she had read. There was something else about the wording that had troubled her. "'…eager to host your designated representative,' '…await your reply,' '…look for your statement…'" she muttered. She glanced up. "None of them are willing to come here, are they?"

For a moment, there was a light in Henrik's eyes as he looked at her. He seemed almost proud. "Indeed, Majesty. That had not escaped me, either. And it leads us the true problem at hand."

Any satisfaction to be gained from her insight vanished like a sputtering candle. Elsa collapsed back into her chair, covering her face with one hand, unable to contain a despairing groan. "It wasn't bad enough already?"

"As I just said, Majesty, words are wind. At the end of the day, the only things we need to worry about from most of these letters are the opinions of distant strangers, and the only threats they pose to us are paper cuts."

She opened one eye, glaring at him from the gap between two of her fingers. "Easy for you to say. You're not the person those opinions are directed at."

A single brown eyebrow ticked upwards. "Am I not? I am your eyes, ears, and voice to the world, Queen Elsa. Do you believe I don't care what people think of Arendelle?"

She sighed. "No. That was uncalled for, Minister. I apologize."

Brows furrowed, Henrik considered her for a long moment. "Your Majesty, I realize this is a great deal to take in at once. But I fear that time is the most significant factor working against us at the moment."

With a deep breath, Elsa sat up straight. If her life had given her nothing else, it was a great deal of practice at looking far more comfortable than she felt. "Very well. What's the bad news, then?"

"You deduced that most nations are reluctant to approach us, but not all our neighbors are so timid."

Her kingdom sat in the midst of the great powers of the day. The sea, the cliffs, and its own humble nature had protected Arendelle from the tides of war, but Elsa was not oblivious to the conflicts that had swept away so many in the brief span of her life. "I should have guessed. France, Germany, Spain, and Ireland all had ambassadors at the coronation. But they left on such good terms…"

"No doubt the spectacle they witnessed from the balcony eased their fears, and the sight of you and your sister reunited on the fjord was enough to soften the hardest heart. But they were the ambassadors, not the men who would listen to their reports and hear of a woman who can freeze a country with a thought. They didn't come here expecting to find an individual capable of shifting the balance of power, but they certainly left with firsthand knowledge of one."

She shuddered. "You make it sound like they'll think I'm a weapon. You make it sound like _you_ do."

"You wield an extraordinary power, Majesty. I won't claim to understand it, but there are others who won't hesitate to try to_ claim_ it."

Elsa's eyes widened, a terrible possibility occurring to her. "Oh, no. Please tell me we haven't been threatened. Arendelle is a small, peaceful kingdom. Whatever their fears of me, they can't mean to harm my people!"

Henrik made a soothing gesture. "No. Between the potential of your powers and the uncertainty of our allegiance, not even the most bellicose nation would be so reckless. The greatest empires in the world tremble at the thought of what you can do to them. They wouldn't dare risk antagonizing you with an invasion, even without factors to consider beyond alienating a potential ally. And that is the key, because they also lust after what they could gain by your favor."

The pieces of the puzzle came together for her, then. "They're coming here, aren't they?"

"Right again, Your Majesty. Congratulations are in order: you have singlehandedly managed to turn the world on its head." He held up the remainder of the letters he had brought with him to the coffee table. Elsa could recognize the seals almost without thinking. "Six of Europe's foremost powers have notified us of their intentions to send embassies to Arendelle."

"When?"

"The weather is already turning. I imagine it will be quite soon. And at that point, we will become host to a half-dozen delegations, many of whom dislike one another in magnitudes I cannot begin to describe. And that is what places us in a most precarious position."

Elsa's eyes narrowed as she tried to follow his meaning. There were a multitude of reasons why hosting the dignitaries of six feuding nations could prove troublesome, but she knew at once that Henrik was not worried about finding sufficient guest rooms or segregating quarrelsome guard details. There was an angle here that she was not seeing. "You're not saying that because you're worried about complicated seating arrangements at dinner."

The intensity of the minister's gaze was disconcerting, but it served to rivet Elsa's attention as he spoke. "Each of these nations is going to want your powers for themselves. To obtain them, they will offer you money, favors, lands, and titles that I can only begin to guess at."

At that moment, Elsa could not help but recall the conversation with Sebastian that had dominated her thoughts for most of the day. "And marriages, no doubt." Her dower trust was all but spent as far as she was concerned, but somehow she doubted that would be much of a disincentive.

Henrik nodded. "That almost goes without saying. Under the circumstances, a marriage pact would be the surest way for anyone to secure exclusive access to your powers."

Heart hardening, Elsa remembered the vow she had made at her parents' graves. Those few short days already seemed a lifetime ago. "If anyone thinks to use my magic to harm others, they _will_ be disappointed," she growled.

"I sympathize on that count, but you may not have much of a choice."

"The subject is not up for discussion. I am not some kind of living weapon, and will not be used as such. I would sooner die."

The minister's mouth formed a thin line. "That is precisely my fear, Your Majesty. The only objective that will drive these ambassadors more desperately than obtaining your powers for themselves is ensuring that they do not fall into the hands of anyone else."

Elsa gaped at him, horrified. "Are you suggesting that this is some kind of competition, and the losers may try to have me _killed?_" It would not be the first time that someone had sought her death, but she had discovered that it was not a feeling that was easy to grow accustomed to.

"If they are desperate enough, the possibility must be considered. Again, no one will wish to openly confront you. Most might deem the risks of failure to outweigh the… benefits of success." Henrik looked like he had bitten into something sour.

In Elsa's estimation, that was a gross underreaction for an oblique reference to her potential assassination. "How practical of them."

The minister did not register the quip. He was leaning back in his chair, staring thoughtfully into space. "But once they're here, it will be obvious that you are neither a walking winter storm nor a willing warrior. With luck, your nature might even remind them of the more sentimental accounts from their ambassadors."

If playing to sympathies was their best option, Elsa was not reassured. "I could welcome them from their ships with soulful gazes and batting eyelashes," she said dryly. "If I'm standing next to Anna while she's carrying a basket full of puppies, it might even make a difference."

Henrik blinked. "You may be on to something."

Elsa stared at him. "You have got to be joking."

The minister shook his head, waving in annoyance. "Forget the puppies, and hear me out. We can't just humbly accept the embassies as they arrive. It gives the impression that we acknowledge why they're here, and at that point we may as well have entered negotiations. That would not sit well with the other delegations as they arrive. What we need to do is retake the initiative."

It was a compelling idea, but Elsa saw no way for it to work. "You've as much as said that they're on their way already."

"In diplomacy, _everything_ is posturing," he reminded her. "And posturing is everything. It doesn't matter why they say they're here. All we need is some other pretext to welcome them, one that doesn't force you to immediately address what they're here for. It buys us time, but that's something we desperately need."

"I take it you have an idea?"

Henrik frowned. "I do. And you won't like it."

Elsa's eyes narrowed as she leaned forward, considering. She wondered what he could be referring to; there were precious few of his ideas that she _did_ like, but he didn't typically account for her objections beforehand. With a startled shock, she sat up ramrod-straight. "No."

He shrugged helplessly. "Do you have a better idea?"

Once again, Elsa collapsed into her chair, not caring a whit for queenly posture or propriety. The day had left her drained and overwhelmed as it was. This was the last straw. "This is the exact thing I _didn't_ want to have happen."

"You did say that Princess Anna enjoys meeting new people."

Elsa glared at the foreign minister. If she had been able to rationalize this as his fault in any way, he might well have been frozen solid on the spot. Alas, her problems were not that easy to fix. And Anna, it seemed, would be caught in the middle of them yet again. "I have a feeling that the guest list for my sister's wedding just got a lot longer."


	5. Chapter Four: Guests of Honor

**Frozen is the property of Disney. Freezing is a process of thermodynamics.  
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><p><strong>CHAPTER FOUR<strong>

**Guests of Honor**

Dinners in Arendelle castle were not typically a quiet affair. It was only Anna and Kristoff there this evening, for which Elsa was silently grateful. Even better, the two of them seemed absorbed in a conversation of their own, leaving the queen to contemplate how best to break the bad news she had in store for this particular family dinner.

It hadn't always been this way. After her coronation, Elsa had started taking both breakfast and dinner together with Anna whenever she could spare the time. There had been some awkward silences at first, but those had passed as the sisters rekindled the companionship of their childhood. Anna did most of the talking in the beginning, but time and practice had helped Elsa in that regard. It had been over meals that Anna slowly coaxed out some of the day-to-day struggles of ruling Arendelle, and insisted on being given the chance to help where she could.

Over time, Kristoff had started to join them. Between long trips into the mountains and his reluctance at the idea of taking up residence in the city, nevermind the castle, his presence was infrequent, but he was always welcome. Since the engagement had become official he appeared to have grown a bit more comfortable with the situation, and his attendance was much more common.

Olaf would wander through on occasion, all for the conversation of course. And at least once a week, Elsa tried to invite either a member of her council or a few of the castle staff to dine with them. It was a small gesture that went a long way with the people who cleaned, sewed, cooked, washed, and maintained their home, and it helped Elsa remember who she worked so hard to serve in her own way. Anna was always thrilled by the company, naturally.

The sound of sudden knocking startled Elsa from her thoughts. She glanced at the entrance to the small family dining hall, but the doors were already open. Then she heard giggling.

"Hey there," Anna said, smiling brightly in response to her sister's halfhearted glare. The fist she had rapped against the tabletop opened in a wave. "I was worried your soup might freeze if you kept staring at it. You were awfully far away."

Elsa sighed. "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about. You looked like you could use the break, to be honest. You feeling okay?"

"It's… been a busy day," she admitted. And if she spent any more of it woolgathering, she estimated the guards would all be able to get new uniforms.

"Tell me about it."

"Sorry. I know you've been busy, too—"

"Elsa," her sister interrupted gently. "_Tell me about it_."

Anna's meaning belatedly sank in. To Elsa's discomfort, the tender gesture only intensified the nervous knot in her stomach. She took a deep breath to steady herself. "I'm afraid I have some bad news."

Anna's expression grew concerned. "About what?"

"It's about the wedding," Elsa prevaricated, her nerves already faltering.

"Timeout," said Anna, with an emphatic gesture. "Stop right there. First thing's first."

Elsa blinked. "What's first?"

"You're still okay with us, right?" Anna asked, suddenly hesitant. "Are you having second thoughts?"

The queen was surprised enough by the implication that she momentarily forgot her trepidation. "Oh, no! Of course not!"

The princess all but wilted in relief. A moment passed, then she rounded on Kristoff just as he was taking a bite from a piece of bread. "Wait. Are _you?_"

He nearly choked. Several seconds of frantic waving and red-faced coughing later, he finally managed to croak out, "No!"

"It's not that kind of problem," Elsa explained, before Kristoff was turned any deeper a shade of puce in his struggle to speak. "Just a… complication with the guest list."

"Don't scare me like that!" Anna said. Her voice was a mix of exasperation and intense relief as she stared at Elsa. Without looking away, she leaned over to slap Kristoff on the back, which unhelpfully coincided with his attempt to take a drink of water.

Suddenly spluttering and damp instead of just nearly asphyxiated, he set down his glass, repaying Anna's sheepish grin with a single upraised eyebrow.

Elsa began to laugh.

It started as a staccato of short, tiny gasps through her nose. But even as she raised a hand to try to stifle the sound, she found herself bursting out with involuntary cachinnations. The others were staring at her as though she'd gone mad, but the laughter had very little to do with poor Kristoff's misfortune or Anna's fretfulness, and everything to do with a day that had accumulated a desperate pressure in need of some kind of relief. Worry and stress had simply chosen the first available outlet once Elsa was with two of the scant few people in the world she was truly comfortable around.

"Kristoff?"

"Yeah, Anna?"

"I think we broke Elsa."

The fit was fading, and Elsa could feel the flush in her cheeks as she tried to blink away the tears of mirth in her eyes. "I'm so, so sorry," she gasped. "I don't know what came over me."

"I haven't heard you laugh like that in… well, ever," Anna said, starting to smile a bit. "Kristoff's table manners aren't _that _bad."

"Hey!" he protested, drying his face with a napkin. He, too, was grinning just a little.

"Tell you what," Anna went on. "Since your bad news isn't that, you know, the wedding's cancelled or something, we actually have some good news for you first."

"Oh?"

Her sister nodded, beaming. "We finally decided on a date!"

When last Elsa knew, there had been two candidates remaining for that particular decision: a late April ceremony to avoid a tedious wait, or late July to give the best chance at ideal conditions and make it a round year from meeting to marriage. The supremacy of each waxed and waned in the war between Anna's natural impatience and her desire for a perfect occasion. "Well, don't keep me waiting. What's the verdict?"

"April. A month from today," Anna announced. "Neither of us really wants to wait until July. If we did I'd probably go stir crazy, and drive everyone else up the walls at the same time. Besides, if we did late July we'd run into your birthday, and it's not worth missing that."

Kristoff and Anna had been together long enough to allay any fears on Elsa's part about a short engagement. Frankly, she'd expected him to ask for her blessing months ago. She had come to dinner worrying instead that she'd have to try to persuade them both in favor of the earlier date, to cater to her own predicament. Now, the queen found herself suppressing a guilty thrill at her fortune. "That's wonderful, Anna. We'll have to send the invitations out promptly, but it should give us just enough time to finish the other arrangements without being rushed."

"That's a relief. I'm running everyone in enough circles as it is, so this will help me nail things down. It's one thing I can stop worrying about, at least."

"You could stand to lose a few more of those, in my humble opinion," said Kristoff. He didn't even flinch at the playful slap Anna laid against his shoulder.

"Quiet, you. Some of us have been dreaming about this for quite a while. It's only natural to be worried about how things will turn out."

"What, you think I wasn't?" He was now wearing a charming little grin. "You said 'yes'. Do you think I had enough worry left over to use for anything past that point in the process?"

"That's silly," Anna replied. "Sweet, but silly. Besides, you're not totally off the hook. You have to decide how much of your family you want to invite."

"Actually," Kristoff said, rubbing at the nape of his neck, "they kind of… can't come."

"Wait, what?" Anna boggled. "We just decided the date! Don't tell me they have prior engagements."

"The trolls can't leave their dell. Or they don't, at least. I'm not sure."

Elsa's brow furrowed. She had given some thought to the attendance of a coterie of trolls at the ceremony, most of it regarding how to accomplish such a thing without panic in the streets. "Why?"

"Something about their magic, I think. They never go far from the hot springs and the clearing. It's why so few people know about them," he explained. He looked away, nervousness increasing exponentially. "And part of why they took me in. They don't get out much, so someone who can bring them news of the outside world was kind of a big deal to have around. I didn't mind."

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" Anna asked, leaning over to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I talked to grand-Pabbie about it. It probably wouldn't be a good idea for them to come to Arendelle, even if they could. And it's not like we won't visit them," he reasoned. "They're fine if we stop by whenever, as long as we let them throw a party of their own for us."

"If you want, we could go to them first."

"I think one wedding to plan is enough," Kristoff said.

"It didn't seem to me that they stood too much on ceremony," Anna replied with a smirk. "Are you sure? This leaves your half of the church a bit empty."

He shrugged. "It's not like I was planning to fill it anyway. It makes more room for your friends from town."

"Actually," Elsa jumped in, "that kind of leads me to what my bad news was about…" With a hesitant, apologetic smile, she began to explain why the guest list to her sister's wedding would now need to include a number of "invitations" issued by the Queen of Arendelle herself.

* * *

><p>...<p>

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><p>The next two weeks were blessedly uneventful. Anna had been quite self-perceptive, for the firm deadline helped more than a bit with keeping her imagination reined in and her focus on what needed to be done. The wedding invitations were dispatched, and once it was done Elsa refused to worry whether those sent to her eleventh-hour additions would arrive before the departures of the embassies that might even now have been bearing down upon her. As Minister Henrik frequently took time to remind her, it didn't matter why they came to her kingdom, only that they could hardly deny that there was an indeed a wedding on the horizon, and the queen could tell them with absolute sincerity that they had been invited.<p>

Spring officially arrived in fine fashion, and Arendelle welcomed April soon after with high spirits. The coast roads to both east and west rattled beneath constant traffic, and the docks were swarming with ships both arriving and departing each day. The marketplace awakened from its winter doldrums with a flood of fresh colors and smells. Crates of supplies were coming in on every ship, with decorations, fabrics, jewelry, flowers and food overflowing the stalls as vendors leapt at the chance to service an entire community and the celebration it was anxiously awaiting.

Not all the excitement was because of the wedding, but even in the lull before the event itself it remained in the back of everyone's minds. Everywhere Elsa looked the people moved with an eager spring in their steps. Every surface in the castle was sparkling as the staff threw themselves into preparations with gusto. Even the meals were just a little bit tastier, as the cooks showed off any delicacy they could think of in hopes of catching the princess's attention before the final menu was set.

Late one afternoon as the ides grew near, Elsa was drawn out of the pages of Voltaire by a knock upon the door of her study. A guard entered at her call, to inform the queen that a rider heralding the first wedding guests had just entered the city.

There were more than two weeks that remained before the wedding, and that could mean only one thing. Her heart skipped a beat in sudden panic. Not trusting her voice, Elsa dismissed the messenger with a nod. Which of the embassies had arrived first? How many ships had they brought, how many in their parties? How would they react? What would she say to them? Her mind awhirl with ill-considered scenarios, Elsa forced herself into outward calmness as she left her study. She longed for more time to prepare. More time to finish half a hundred other projects far less intimidating, not to mention less potentially catastrophic. More time to spend with Anna before her wedding, before the greatest change to their lives since the opening of the gates, and the great game now bound up inextricably with it.

Elsa tried to convince herself she wasn't dragging her feet as she made her way towards the courtyard. She tried not to let her unease seep to the surface when she met Anna on the way there. She tried not to sprint back into the castle as she longed to do, to hide just how unready she was for the greatest challenge of her reign. She felt herself winding like a spring, a roiling knot in her stomach ten times worse than the moment she had taken the royal scepter and orb into her ungloved hands at her coronation.

As they waited at the bridge, the tension only grew worse. The skin beneath the clasp of her midnight blue cape itched fiercely. She pawed anxiously at the silver velvet of her dress, pressing at invisible wrinkles in the fabric just to give her clammy hands something to do. Elsa felt like she was going to be sick. A fragment of her mind, its voice distant and tinny, wondered what kind of political precedent that might set. "In diplomacy, everything is posturing," Minister Henrik had said. What would he make of that brand of welcome? Would he be speechless? That might have made it worthwhile, but he wasn't here. He'd promised he'd be there with her when each of the embassies arrived. But by the time she remembered that, there was no time to send for him. The carriage was already rolling towards the gates.

Elsa blinked. The carriage? When her wits finally wrestled aside her panic, the tension flooded away so quickly she nearly wilted with relief. By the time the coach rolled to a stop, she almost felt like smiling.

By the time the first occupant stepped out, she was.

"Sera!" Anna squealed, all but tackling their disembarking guest the instant her feet were on solid ground. "You made it!"

"Oof!" the younger girl gasped. "Hello, Anna. It might be a short stay if you don't let me breathe!"

"Oops," she said sheepishly, releasing the girl from her hug but still holding her by the shoulders at arms' length. "It's just good to see you again."

"And you." Queen Seraphim of Kristensand was smiling vividly, her auburn hair flowing in loose waves to the tops of her shoulders. Her dress was striking crimson silk slashed with cloth of gold, the colors of her kingdom and home, affectionately known as the Sunset City. "But where's the lucky groom?" she asked, glancing over Anna's shoulder.

"One last ice harvesting trip before the big day. I think he just needed some fresh air to steady his nerves. He'll be back tomorrow."

"I'd have laid down good money when you left that you'd be married before I was crowned." She smiled over her shoulder, back into the carriage. "And yet you wouldn't take my bet."

"Lucky me," the second occupant replied as he stepped into the sunlight. Prince Uriel, Seraphim's elder brother, skipped the steps down from the coach, dropping lightly to his feet upon the pavement. The prince was dressed in his customary black, though he had exchanged his old hooded cloak for a half-cape, keeping his dark hair and grey eyes uncovered. The scarring over the right side of his face and neck was still quite evident, the legacy of severe burns taken saving his sister's life during the fire that had destroyed their home. "Besides, how could that possibly have been a fair bet, so long as you're the one setting the date for your coronation?"

"Details, details," Seraphim scoffed. Her green eyes lit up like twin emeralds when she caught sight of her fellow monarch. "Queen Elsa! I'm sorry, what a terrible guest I am already! How are you?"

"Much better now," Elsa said, quite honestly. She returned the young woman's smile. "It's always good to see a friendly face, Your Majesty."

"Flatterer. And mark my words, I'll get you to call me Seraphim before we leave if it's the last thing I do."

Uriel faced Elsa, bowing deeply. "Your Majesty. It is a pleasure as always."

Elsa curtsied. "Your Highness."

The prince turned to give Seraphim a wry grin. "I was wondering why we came so early. All so you can spend more time harassing Her Majesty over courtesies?"

"Harassing? Hardly. With her, I'm teasing. With you, I'm making sure you don't stuff up the place like a fop," she shot back. "We're all so very high and majestic, I don't see why we need to remind one another of it."

The banter was driving away the worries that had clouded her, leaving Elsa determined to enjoy the good mood. "I'll make you a deal. Call me Elsa, and I'll call you Seraphim."

"Hah!" she exclaimed. "The objectives are met. My work here is done. Let's go, Uri."

"Very funny. You know, I expect there will be cake at the wedding."

"I've changed my mind, we're staying. If it's chocolate, I might never leave."

"Well, that settles all doubts," Elsa observed, giving Anna a knowing look. "She's definitely our cousin."

"Step-cousin!" her sister chirped, leaning over to nudge Elsa lightly in the ribs. Seraphim and Uriel were the children of a step-sister to King James, Elsa and Anna's father. It was the sort of convoluted family tree that most every noble household in Europe shared – or soundly trumped – but actually amounted to nothing in terms of consanguinity. It had, however, become something of a running joke among the four of them.

"Well then, Elsa," Seraphim said, as though trying the name on for size. "How did you never manage to tell us how absolutely gorgeous your kingdom is? I'm not just talking about that marvelous covered bridge through the pass. The woods must be spectacular in the fall, and your city is beautiful!"

"Thank you. I can't take much credit for all that, though. The staff have been working very hard."

"I can tell. It'll be nice to be back in a castle again, even if it's just for the reminder of home." The castle and royal apartments in Kristensand had been gutted in a fire the year prior, started by the magic of the kingdom's then-regent, Catalina, and abetted by the years of drought she had been causing. "Repairs are going well, but it will be another few months or so before the place is livable."

"You're our guests here, so make yourselves at home. Anna is always reminding me of how much extra space we have."

"Ten guest rooms on the first floor, and four unused suites on the second," the princess confirmed. "And I could walk through all of them blindfolded."

Uriel's eyebrows rose at that statement. "I'd like to see that."

"Trust me, she's not joking," said Elsa. "Anna knows the castle better than anyone. But the tour can wait for some other time. I'm sure you must be tired from the journey."

"Are you trying to get rid of us already?" Seraphim wondered, smiling mischievously. "The trip isn't that long."

"Speak for yourself," Uriel said. "Some of us were awake for the whole ride, little sunset. Especially the parts you spent gushing about how excited you were to be here."

"The pot, the kettle, and your wardrobe are all tripping over one another, brother," she teased. "Which of us is the one who's spent days champing at the bit to leave, hmm?"

"That would be both of us," he retorted dryly.

"True." She gave her brother a knowing wink, which seemed to exasperate him more than anything she'd said. Elsa sensed a story there, but did not dare to pry.

"You're not too tired for dinner, at least," Anna said hopefully. "We can catch up! I want to hear all about what's been happening."

"The same goes for you," Seraphim insisted. "There's at least one good story for you to tell that you haven't written me about. Though I wonder if we shouldn't wait for Kristoff to come back to tell it. He's adorable when he's embarrassed."

"Yes he is. And I saw him first!"

Sera pouted playfully. "Does he have any family? Brothers, perhaps?"

"Yes," Elsa said, with a remarkably straight face. "It's quite an extended family."

Anna dissolved into a fit of giggles, which drew a curious look from Seraphim. "Well, I hope we get the chance to meet them."

"I'm sure we will," said Uriel, giving Elsa a sidelong look. He might almost have been smiling, but it was difficult to discern. "For now, dinner sounds tempting."

"Of course," said Elsa. "We have some time if you'd like to unpack and clean up a bit first." The footmen had been busy unloading the carriage while they talked, and the queen beckoned over a few grooms idling by the stables to help carry things into the castle. Inside, the staff had already been preparing rooms for some of the wedding guests, but Elsa was of a mind to give their first visitors a pair of the empty chambers in the family quarters on the second floor. No one else invited to the wedding was like to merit the treatment. "I can show you to your rooms."

"Good plan," said Seraphim, grabbing a pair of bags from the top of the luggage pile.

After directing some of the traffic of helping hands by pointing out heavy or fragile packages and with whom they went, Uriel grabbed one of the trunks. "Lead the way, Your Majesty."

Elsa guided them into the halls of the castle, Anna a half-step behind her. As they reached the spiral staircase through the side of the entrance hall, a half-whispered exchange reached her ears through the stomp of boots and rattle of luggage.

"I have a new mission, Uri. Before we leave, I'm going to get you to call her Elsa."

"Good luck, sister," he said, the smile audible in his voice. "There's one queen here who knows how to act the part. If I'm lucky, maybe you'll learn a thing or two."


	6. Chapter Five: Accommodations

**Frozen is not not the property of Disney.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER FIVE<strong>

**Accommodations**

Kristoff returned to the city early the next day, on the heels of one last furtive snap from the retreating winter. A brisk wind from the north had left a dusting of snow on Arendelle overnight, just enough to coat the city and castle in a charming glaze that sparkled in the morning sun. Most everyone took the opportunity to stay indoors, enjoying a lazy morning as they waited for the clear skies to chase away the shallow chill.

Elsa, however, found herself in the council chambers. A fire was lit in the hearth to counter the breeze rattling against the tall windows, and fresh candles burned in the chandelier above. She gazed across the familiar faces around the table. There was nothing monumental about this weekly gathering, but an uneasy premonition nagged at the back of her mind. Somehow she knew it would be their last chance to meet before Arendelle faced its latest challenge.

Elsa's initial reaction to the news of guests the previous day had told her in no uncertain terms that she had not done enough to prepare for the imminent arrival of new ambassadors to Arendelle. Two weeks, now wasted on aimless worry and mounting apprehension instead of preparing for what was on the horizon. The queen took her seat at the head of the table, resolved to address the oversight. The men of the queen's privy council took their seats after her.

"Welcome, gentlemen," she began without preamble. "By now everyone is aware of the situation. I believe all of you have read the letters received by Minister Henrik."

"Indeed, Your Majesty," said William, the Bishop of Arendelle. His calm, dulcet voice carried easily through the room. "I look forward to hosting such esteemed guests during this happy occasion."

"Well, I'm glad at least one of you listened while I was explaining things," Minister Henrik said with a smirk. "Though you can save the performance for when the embassies actually arrive, Your Excellency."

The bishop favored the foreign minister with a benign smile. "You don't need to tell me how to play a proper host. But regardless of why they're here, it won't hurt anyone to treat guests as what they are."

That was advice worth remembering, in Elsa's estimation. Thinking of the incoming delegations as wedding guests made them a bit less threatening. A very small bit, but it was better than nothing. "Kai, how are the preparations coming in the visitor's quarters?"

"Almost ready, ma'am," he replied. As chamberlain of the castle, he was in charge of maintenance of the household. As one of the longest-tenured members of the staff, he was a familiar and friendly voice on Elsa's council. "All the rooms on the first floor have been opened and cleaned. Since we don't know when they'll begin arriving, we've made preparations for extended stays in case anyone appears well before the wedding."

"What about the entourages?" Henrik wondered. "We don't know how many people some of these embassies will include, but you can bet they won't be understaffed."

"The ambassadors will be offered quarters in the castle," Elsa decided. "And given freedom to come and go from the grounds. Any others in the parties can stay with their ships or find lodging in the city."

The foreign minister nodded. "That should serve. A few might have aides or secretaries they'd like to keep close by. Do we have spare room in the staff quarters?"

Kai looked to Elsa before responding. At her nod, he said, "We still have open rooms in the lower levels that would do. They're not luxurious, but nothing to complain about either."

"It's all so much wasted effort, if you ask me," groused Percy Lucas, the Mayor of Arendelle. The sole elected member of the council, his duty was to represent the people of the city who lived outside the castle walls. "If they're here for the wedding, fine, the inns will be as happy for their coin as any other guests. But all this talk of pampering and play-acting gives me a headache."

"If all you care about is shaking hands and filling your pockets, then don't concern yourself with it," Henrik snapped, scowling across the table. "None of the ambassadors is coming here to meet the mayor."

Lucas glared right back at him. "None of them is coming here for the wedding, either. I don't care about the money, I'm just calling a spade a spade. I don't like the looks of this, no more than any of you." He looked at Elsa. "I say we turn them away at the docks, Your Majesty. Arendelle will be better off without the lot of them."

A small, childish part of Elsa wanted to leap to her feet in agreement, but the queen in her knew better. "I'm sorry, but that's not an option."

"Why?" the mayor wondered. "Majesty, I can't be the only one thinking this. Your magic can easily keep out any unwanted guests."

"I won't use my powers to hurt anyone," Elsa said adamantly. "That's the very problem I'm trying so hard to avoid." For two weeks she had been groping for a solution, but no answers were forthcoming. Burying herself in practicalities had become the only productive avenue of thought available. Worst of all, she appeared more and more to be the only one still trying to escape this predicament without being turned into the very living weapon the great nations were trying to make of her.

"Who said anyone needs to be hurt?" Lucas countered. "Freeze the sea around the harbor, and not one ship you don't want to be here can so much as spit at the fjord. Send these high-and-mighty ambassadors packing off home, and I'll be the first one cheering you on."

"Chase off the ambassadors, and you'll find a war fleet here in their places within a month," Henrik argued. "What then?"

"There's not a ship on the seas that can break through ice as thick as the queen made last July. Let them sail around out of sight, sulking, if they've got nothing better to do."

"And if they move up the coast and land troops?" asked Martin, Captain of the Guard. "Would you ask the queen to seal Arendelle off by road, too?"

"If it came to that, yes," the mayor said stubbornly.

"And how long do you think we'd last under siege like that? Weeks? Months?" the foreign minister wondered. "I'll guarantee you one thing, Percy. It won't be longer than any of these nations is willing to wait to get their hands on Her Majesty's magic. If anything, it will remind them just what those powers could do for them if they're willing to bide their time."

"This bickering is pointless," said Elsa. It was also counterproductive to her flagging hopes, but she could hardly say so. "We'll receive the ambassadors just as we will every other guest to my sister's wedding. Which – and I can't believe I even have to say this – I do not intend to disrupt any more than I already have."

"An admirable goal," Bishop William said, trying to calm the rising heat of the debate. "And one we all can agree to keep in mind."

Everyone took the opportunity for a deep breath, even Elsa. A brief silence was broken by Sebastian as he addressed the captain of guards. "Speaking of disruptions, it seems we will have a large number of new faces in town for the next few weeks. Do you plan to hire more men?"

Martin shook his head, and his bushy grey sideburns with it. Normally sticking out from beneath his tall uniform cap like a pair of great scrub brushes, they were even more prominent next to the bald head revealed with the headgear sitting on the table beside him. "I don't intend to. The recruits from the winter class will bring the guard back to full strength, just over a hundred men."

The steward nodded, making a brief note in his ledger. "If you reconsider, there is room in the budget for additional security."

"I'll take boys I've trained who can trust the man next to them over any mercenaries we'd sweep up. The lads won't say no to being paid for good work, and I'm planning on some longer shifts and doubled watches."

"If you don't need more men, why would that be necessary?" Elsa wondered.

"I've taken what the minister's told me to heart," Martin replied, nodding towards Henrik. "Soon as the first ambassadors arrive, I mean to place a guard detail on you at all times you're away from the royal apartments. If you set foot off the second floor, you're to have two of my best men at your back. Outside the castle, it'll be a half-squad."

"What about the princess?" asked Sebastian. "And young Kristoff?"

"It will be the same for the entire royal family," the captain said with a firm nod.

"Isn't that a bit much?" said Elsa. The prospect of being shadowed by guards at all times was bad enough for her. She could only imagine how Anna and Kristoff would chafe under that kind of overbearing protection.

"I was with Your Majesty and the princess in Kristensand," Martin pointed out. "What happened there won't get an encore if I have anything to say about it."

That was a reminder of events Elsa could have lived without, but it did stifle her objections. To argue would only serve to recall a similar debate with Martin's predecessor, one held in this very room mere months ago. The queen resigned herself to being shepherded about once this grim business had begun, grateful that she hadn't had to argue for some privacy in the residence itself. At least they didn't think she and Anna were so fragile as to require an escort walking between each other's rooms for a chat. "Very well."

Glances were shared around the table. It seemed they had all expected her to resist that point, but Elsa found herself with little heart to care, let alone quarrel.

The foreign minister broke the silence before it stretched. "I have one last question, Your Majesty. How are your languages?"

Elsa bit back a frustrated sigh. Not because the question was not relevant, but because it was something of a touchy subject for her. "I'm fine in French. I've been refreshing it a bit," she said, thinking back to the charming booklet of Voltaire still half-finished in her study. "My English is rusty, but it should serve."

Henrik's eyes narrowed with consideration, but he made no comment. If he had, Elsa likely would have frozen him in his chair. For whatever reason, she'd never managed to wrap her head around languages. Long study, both with tutors as a girl and on her own initiative in the years since, had done little to remedy some invisible stumbling block she'd never faced in any other subject. Not counting her native Norwegian, or the Danish that was barely different enough to count separately, she had only managed the two other languages through all her efforts.

"I realize that might make an interpreter required in some cases," the queen went on. "It's already been arranged."

"Oh?" She could see the gears turning in the minister's head, since he had not been consulted on the matter.

"Yes." There was only one person Elsa would trust to speak for her so directly. With any luck shared languages would keep such services from being required too often. "As necessary, Anna will translate for me."

Henrik blinked. "The princess? But she…"

"Speaks seven languages. I can list them, if you'd like." Whatever deficiency had stymied Elsa had not been inherited by her sister. Anna had absorbed foreign dialects as easily as Elsa absorbed books, almost as if she'd been driven by a desire to never be unable to speak to a new stranger chance met.

It was also entirely possible that during fourteen years of isolation, she'd just been that bored.

"I see," the foreign minister said, still a bit stunned.

Resisting the urge to smile, Elsa cast a questioning glance around the table. "Does anyone have any further business?"

"Actually, Your Majesty, there's one more thing," said the mayor. "It seems silly to bring it up, but considering the circumstances it'd be foolish not to at least mention."

She motioned him to continue. "What is it?"

"Your Majesty, there are… rumors…" He hesitated as the queen gave him a level stare.

"Percy, I think we've enough problems to contend against without addressing the town's gossip in a council meeting."

The mayor wrung his hands, not holding her gaze. "Yes, Your Majesty. Normally I'd agree. But they're regarding one of the guests that arrived yesterday. Prince Uriel. It's said by some that he possesses magic, as you do. That the recent drought in Kristensand was actually his doing."

Keeping her expression carefully neutral, Elsa peered back at him. The subject was not entirely unexpected. "That was a cruel lie spread by the Queen Regent, Catalina. She was responsible for the drought, as well as the fires that burned the royal apartments and would have done the same to the entire city."

The half-truth shamed her, but Elsa did not let that show on her face. _Posturing is everything, Henrik says. I wonder if he imagined I'd use such a thing against my own advisors._ She trusted her councilors, but she and Anna had both made promises to Uriel before leaving Kristensand the previous year. Catalina had admitted her responsibility for the drought, but while Uriel had never publicly acknowledged his own powers, a combination of old rumors, logical suspicion, and distrust of magic had still led the prince to abdicate in favor of his sister.

It would be difficult as it was to cope with that hearsay, so Elsa was not about to risk confirming the stories to anyone. Not with the will of empires already bearing down upon Arendelle to try to claim her own magic. It was bad enough that Anna's wedding had become entangled in the mess. Elsa was not about to subject a friend to the selfsame fate that awaited her.

"I see," said the mayor.

He did not sound convinced, but Elsa still did not want to lie to the man outright. "The ambassadors will have more than enough attention to lavish upon me, I'm sure," she said. "I would appreciate it if our friends were allowed to remain uninvolved while here as guests for my sister's wedding."

That was all true enough, and seemed to satisfy the mayor. "You're right, of course."

Elsa nodded. "Then if there are no other matters…?"

A series of shaking heads was followed by the rumbling rasp of chairs pushing across the parquet floor. The mundane issues surrounding the coming of the embassies had all been addressed. The men of her council bowed to the queen as they took their leave, one by one. They had their plans. They had their duties. Arendelle was as ready as it would ever be.

As she remained in her chair, hands clasped upon the table, long after the others had left, Elsa could only wish that any of it had helped to quell the dread gnawing at her heart.

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><p>...<p>

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><p>When Elsa finally managed to draw herself out of the council chambers, she felt like doing nothing more than crawling into her bed and going back to sleep. But as pleasant a fantasy as that was, it vanished beneath curiosity at the sound of voices from the parlor a few rooms down the hall. The door was ajar, and Elsa peered inside.<p>

A fire was crackling merrily in the wide hearth, casting a ruddy glow that was muted by the bright sunlight coming from the tall windows on the opposite wall. At the back of a wine-red throw rug, just close enough to the fire to be comfortably warm, a chaise longue sat next to a long coffee table. Anna and Uriel were perched on opposite sides of a chess set that was placed in the middle of the table, legs dangling as they sat sideways. Kristoff was relaxed on the couch itself, he and Anna's backs to Elsa. One of Kristoff's arms was draped over the side of the chair to idly stroke up and down his fiancée's shoulders as he watched the contest. Uriel was facing the door, but he was gazing fiercely down at the board. From what Elsa could see of it, his intense concentration was doing little to help his fortunes.

The voices she'd heard proved to be Olaf and Seraphim, who were seated by the window, well back from the fireplace and absorbed in conversation. The snowman was gesticulating wildly, and appeared to be telling a story of past events in this very room. He was saying something about an icicle spyglass when he caught sight of the queen in the doorway.

"Elsa! You're back!" he called happily.

The rest of the occupants looked up at his shout. Elsa felt herself smiling a bit at the sight, council meetings and politics suddenly forgotten. "I never left, Olaf. I was just a few rooms away."

"We know, we were waiting for you!" Olaf said. He bounced across the floor towards her, trailing snowflakes from his cloud. "I was telling your friend the story of the Reindeer King."

Kristoff's head thudded softly against the padded back of the chaise. "How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?" he groaned.

"Don't knock it," said Anna, spinning in her seat on the polished wood to plant a kiss on his forehead. "I've always wanted to marry a king."

"Too bad you settled for me, then." Leaning a bit further back, Kristoff managed to shift the kiss into a more mutually pleasant location. Anna giggled, the sound muffled but sublimely happy.

"Keep it up, you two," Seraphim crooned from the window seat. "I don't think the rest of us have toothaches yet."

Uriel beat a hasty retreat from his place on the coffee table to give the couple some privacy. "I'm surprised you didn't introduce us to your friend when we arrived," the prince said as he walked towards Elsa, his eyes on Olaf.

The snowman laughed, shifting from side as his head spun in place to take in every conversation around him. "She asked me to keep a low profile after my first day as castle greeter. There was an incident involving some visitors and the cart of a traveling cabbage merchant," he confided. His voice dropped to a stage whisper, one twig arm held up as if to shield his mouth. "Between you and me, I'm not sure the railings on the bridge are compliant with public safety standards."

"That sounds serious," Uriel deadpanned.

"Nah. It was a good day for a swim," the snowman said reassuringly. "There was an awful lot of cabbage on the menu from the castle kitchens the next few days, though."

"We'll let you try again sometime, Olaf. Just give the people a chance to get used to you first." The citizens of Arendelle still gave the snowman a wide berth when he went out exploring the city, but that was at least a step further down the path from screaming panic.

"He's certainly a friendly sort," Seraphim said as she joined them by the doorway, looking at Olaf with amusement. "And he was right: we were skulking here to catch you when you were done with your meeting."

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting," Elsa replied.

"No need to apologize, Your Majesty. And I assure you we weren't 'skulking'."

"Yes, some of us were pretending we knew how to play chess," Seraphim teased.

"I do know how to play," Uriel protested. "I'm just abysmally bad at it. There's a difference, sister. Besides, you didn't seem too eager to face the princess yourself."

"The offer stands," Anna said from behind them. "Taking all comers!"

Elsa turned her eyes outside the window. The sun was shining brightly, and the thin blanket of snow from the previous night had already melted away. Through the haze of the glass, her gaze drifted along the faint brown track of the road outside Arendelle, toward the eastern foothills beneath the still-rising sun. "I have an idea," she said, almost without thinking. The others turned to her with questioning looks. Before the impulse could desert her, she went on. "Let's take a trip outside the city, just the five of us."

There was the sound of a throat being cleared from down by her knees. "I'm sorry, Olaf. Six of us."

"Ahem," the snowman repeated, holding his hands up by his head, the tiny branches of his fingers splayed.

"And Sven can come, too," Elsa acknowledged, smiling.

"I like this idea," Anna said brightly. "Where are we going?"

Soon, the castle would be inundated with guests and strangers, friendly or otherwise. By then, it was unlikely Captain Martin would allow them to set foot outside the walls without a well-meaning but omnipresent escort. They could all do with one last day of free, clear, and open air. And there was something she owed to Anna, before the chaos the queen had imposed upon her sister's wedding had a chance to take root. "Well, if you and Kristoff don't mind, I thought we might pay a visit to his family."

.

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><p><strong>*AN* - **One quick note, and one less quick one. First: don't worry about the bit on languages. Just as it is in every Disney movie, Translation Convention is in effect.

Now, I feel I must address some issues from reviews to the previous chapter, before things progress any further. I will say this, emphatically and unequivocally: Elsa and Uriel **are. Not. Related. **If you find yourself uncomfortable at the prospect of a relationship that is not explicitly and uniformly platonic between two characters who share no common ancestors, that's your prerogative. I will do all my readers the courtesy of not telling them what to think, and all I ask in return is that they not tell me how to write my story. A story, I might add, that no one should be reading for any reason other than that they enjoy it.

Enough of that, though. Back to the fic!


	7. Chapter Six: Practical Magic

**Frozen is the property of Disney.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER SIX<strong>

**Practical Magic**

They all met again in the castle courtyard a short time later. Anna and Seraphim had to stop by their rooms for warmer clothes; while the sky was clear, the sun had warmed the air just enough to rise above freezing. Kristoff by and large still lived out of his sled, which was parked by the stables. From it he procured a handsome new coat that had been a gift from Anna, and then he and Uriel headed inside to saddle the horses.

It was at that moment that Elsa began to regret her impulsiveness. Stealing away from the castle to visit the trolls without an escort had seemed a fine idea, until it dawned on her that they would not be able to use the carriage. She considered asking Kristoff if they could take the sled, but she saw it was still loaded to the brim with the batch of ice he had just brought back that morning. The request died in her throat, and she resigned herself to the consequences of her actions.

Elsa was not a confident equestrienne. She had ridden before, and had no fear of the animals themselves, but it had been a while since her last journey on horseback. The grooms kept a mount for her in the stables, just as they did Anna. A gentle gelding with a pure white coat, Elsa had visited him with treats from time to time, usually when Anna mentioned she was going to pay a call on Crenel, her own horse. Elsa had named her mount as well, at the request of the master of horse. She recognized Enceladus at once when Kristoff led him out.

His nostrils flared as she approached. He recognized her scent, and his head turned as he began looking for the gifts that always came with it. Not wishing to disappoint him, Elsa thought quickly, and summoned a bit of snow into her open hand. The gelding snorted dubiously, but began licking at the cool treat, his rough tongue rasping against her palm. Satisfied, he nuzzled her shoulder, and Elsa smiled. She pulled herself gingerly into the saddle.

The others were mounting as well. Anna was circling on Crenel, stroking a hand across the blocky pattern of the mane for which the horse was named. Kristoff was on Sven, and the reindeer was stamping eagerly to be off, with Olaf clinging fast to the back of the bridle. Seraphim had claimed a dark chestnut mare, and Uriel a piebald courser.

Seraphim was snickering in her brother's direction. He regarded her with a raised eyebrow. "What?"

"I take it you couldn't find a proper black horse, so you chose to ride a cow instead."

With a significant glance at the conspicuously stylish match between the coat of Seraphim's mount and her rider's dress and hair, Uriel patted the side of his own horse's neck. "Don't listen to her, she's just jealous." At that, Elsa would have sworn the courser turned his nose up at Seraphim with a derisive snort.

They rode out the gates in file. Elsa left word with the sentries that they were heading to the northeast and would be back in a few hours. The secrecy of the trolls' home depended on her not being any more specific than that. They set an easy pace, for which she was duly grateful, and after a while she began to settle into the sedate rhythm of the horse's walk.

"So Kristoff," Seraphim said, with elaborate casualness, "tell me about your family."

"Hasn't Anna told you about them yet?"

"Not really. I can't get more than a few cryptic words out of her."

He chuckled. "Well, they do kind of defy explanation."

"I hear you have brothers?"

From his position at the head of their little column, Kristoff turned to look at Seraphim over his shoulder. At the rear, Elsa caught his attention with a wave, and tapped the side of her nose with a finger. His brows furrowed in confusion, but when everyone down the line turned to follow his look, the queen was only wearing an expression of polite interest.

"Yes, Kristoff. Your brothers," said Anna, playing along with a voice that was almost normal enough not to arouse suspicion. "I met them, remember? They're fun!"

"I don't know if that's how I'd describe them," he said doubtfully.

"That's no way to talk about your family," Olaf scolded him. "They were loads of fun!"

"That's not what I meant. I meant I wouldn't really call them br—"

"Don't be so worried," Anna said, bowling over the end of his statement. "They don't get out much, that's true, but I'm sure they'll be happy for you to introduce them to Seraphim."

"If you say so," he said, resigned to whatever game was being played.

Just ahead of Elsa, Uriel turned in his saddle. He slowed his horse a few paces, getting just close enough to whisper, "If whatever joke you two are setting up is going to involve us running for our lives, please give me a sign." Elsa's neutral expression cracked ever so briefly into a smile, and Uriel nodded. "I'll take that as a 'no'."

As they left the main road for the forested paths into the foothills, the air grew colder beneath the shade of the evergreens. It didn't faze Elsa, but she saw both Anna and Seraphim wrapped their cloaks a bit more tightly about their shoulders. The slope of the path rolled up and down, gradually increasing as they went. About an hour into their journey the air started to become noticeably warmer, even in the deep shade. The forest gave way soon after, opening onto the rocky, tiered clearing.

Kristoff hopped down from Sven's back, turning to face the others while Olaf charged ahead. "It'd be better to leave the horses here. The guys tend to spook them a bit."

They all dismounted, tying the horses up near the edge of the clearing. Elsa saw Seraphim approach out of the corner of her eye, a doubtful look on her face. "Why would Kristoff's family spook horses? And why are they living way out here?"

"They're a rough-and-tumble crowd," Anna said, before Elsa could frame a reply of her own. "You'll see. Come on!" Elsa covered her smile with one hand at the look of consternation on the younger girl's face, as Anna practically dragged her by an arm into the clearing.

Uriel walked up beside her. "Dare I ask?"

"A bit of harmless fun," she said. "Come, they'll want to greet all of us."

It wasn't until they were all standing amidst the stones in the center of the depression that a great rumbling noise filled the dell. Seraphim gave a yelp of surprise and grasped for Uriel's arm when the stones scattered about began shaking and tumbling, moving of their own accord to gather around the visitors. The rocks split apart as one, revealing dozens of faces staring up at them.

"Guys!" Kristoff shouted.

They replied in an echoing chorus. "Kristoff's home!"

"It's good to see you all again!" said Anna.

"And he's brought back the girl!" they all exclaimed.

"Eep!" Sera gasped.

The trolls blinked at her in silence.

With a quick bit of acrobatics, three of the creatures stood on one another's shoulders. A troll with bands of red crystals around its neck stood eye-to-eye with Kristoff. It was all but impossible for Elsa to distinguish most of the trolls by sight, but the one at the top of the pile was fixing Kristoff with a stern glare and spoke with a feminine, almost motherly, tone. "You do know you're not supposed to start a collection, right?"

He gave a defensive wave with both hands. "It's not like that!"

"This is my cousin," Anna supplied quickly. "Everyone, this is Seraphim." She made a sweeping gesture. "Seraphim, meet Kristoff's family. They're trolls."

"Uh-huh," she managed, her eyes roving across the sea of foot-high faces staring back at her. She gave a little wave. "I see that now."

At some silent impulse, a path was cleared through the crowd, and a single moss-strewn boulder rumbled towards them. It unfurled to reveal a troll with a long nest of grass-like hair and an even longer cape, with a large collection of golden crystals strung across its chest. "Well, this is a pleasant surprise," he said. The voice was wizened and raspy, but sounded happy nonetheless.

"Grand-Pabbie," Kristoff greeted.

"Welcome back, Kristoff." The elder looked around, taking in all the faces. When he saw Elsa, he bowed a bit in her direction. "Queen Elsa. It is good to see you well."

"The queen?" "It's the queen!" "The queen!" Elsa smiled hesitantly at the deluge of whispers that rose from the crowd.

"And with such friends!" Pabbie looked at Uriel, and took an audible breath. "A pleasant surprise, indeed."

"Hello there. My name is Uriel," the prince replied. "Grandpabbie, was it?"

"Just Pabbie, please. Kristoff is family, but there's no need for the rest of you to make me feel older than I am," he chuckled.

"Hey, you know that's not why I call you that," Kristoff protested. "Besides, you don't look any older than the day I met you."

"Kristoff!" Anna scolded, slapping his shoulder.

Pabbie laughed away the blunt comment, knowing it was well-meant. "There's a difference between that and looking young, as days like this one can only remind me. Magic can do many things, but stopping time is beyond anyone's power. That is good when it gives us days like today, where we meet the sons and daughters of those we once knew, now grown and strong."

"Wait," said Uriel, staring intently at the troll elder. "You knew our parents?"

"Your father, yes. He never told you?"

"No," Seraphim replied.

"Odd," said Pabbie, as he glanced at Uriel. "Well, he was a young man then. The head is a fickle thing, and what we remember of childhood weathers away in time. He was a friend to us, as are you all. And you bring with you a taste of a different kind of magic. For all my years, I never thought I'd see this day."

"What do you mean?" Elsa asked.

The elder looked up at her, eyes narrowed for a fraction of a moment, and shrugged. "Kristoff's wedding, of course. That is why you're here, isn't it?"

A cheer went up at once throughout the clearing, a loud clamor of joy from each and every troll. The thunder of tumbling stone only added to the tumult as Anna and Kristoff were swept away by a tide of rolling rocks, laughing. Sven bounded after them, followed by Olaf. With a moment's hesitation, Seraphim gave chase as well, shouting, "Hey! Wait for me!"

Uriel took a step in that direction, before noticing that Elsa was unmoving. He gave her an inquisitive look. "Should we go after them?"

Elsa hugged her arms across her stomach, each hand clasping the opposite elbow. She watched Anna laugh as the trolls crowded around her, a jumbled mix of emotions running through her heart faster than she could register them. "If you like. From what Anna's told me, the trolls will handle things from here. I'll let them enjoy themselves."

The prince studied her for a moment, and then looked away. He clasped his hands at his back, but made no move to leave. They both stood there, watching the noisome preparations on the far side of the clearing. There appeared to be a great deal of earthmoving and costume design taking place, but Elsa found herself satisfied with the relative quiet. She knew this was a celebration, but it was one for Anna and Kristoff. She owed them this much.

"The magic of this place is powerful," Uriel said into the silence. "Can you feel it?"

"Hmm," Elsa mumbled, a soft sound of agreement. She hadn't given it much thought, but there was certainly something about the troll dell. A kind of pressure she felt deep in her chest, neither pleasant nor uncomfortable, simply there. "Anna said that even during my winter, the snow didn't touch this place. Somehow I don't think it was just the steam vents," she said, watching the soft haze that emanated from dozens of cracks in the rocky ground. Even at midday, they cast the clearing in a faint grey gloom.

Another thoughtful silence stretched. Uriel cleared his throat. "Forgive me for prying, Your Majesty. But considering the occasion, you seem a bit melancholy."

She gave him a wan smile. "I don't suppose it would convince you if I simply said otherwise."

"Not particularly. If there's anything I can do to help…"

Elsa shook her head. "Please. You're here as guests for Anna's wedding, not to listen to me moan about my problems."

"I realize that, but I'm not totally incapable of doing two things at once. Regardless of what Sera might say." His smile was hesitant, but as lopsided as she remembered. "We came to visit you, just as much as we did Anna. What troubles you?"

"I've told you about what happened during my coronation. There were a number of foreign ambassadors in attendance, and it seems my magic has caused quite a stir in the wider world."

"I've never done anything with quite such an audience, but it seems every sailor and merchant who's come to Kristensand has heard rumors about me as well. I can imagine what they must be thinking in your case."

Resentment flared briefly in Elsa's heart, before she realized that he might be the only person she knew who could say such a thing honestly. And even if he was just feeding her platitudes, he wasn't responsible for her mistakes. "Can you, though? Arendelle's received letters from what seems like every nation on Earth. Half of them want to flatter me into conquering the world for them. The other half feel they must appease me from destroying them. And all of them are terrified of me." She couldn't keep the raw emotion out of her voice that thought inflicted. It had been all she could do not to think of it every waking moment since she'd read those letters. It hurt too much to hide.

"They don't know you, Your Majesty."

"My foreign minister told me the same thing." She laughed, the sound of it brief and bitter. "Do you think it helps?"

"No," he admitted, looking at the ground. "I don't expect it does."

"I wish that were the worst of it," Elsa sighed. "But not everyone's been content to send me letters. Some countries are sending diplomatic envoys to Arendelle, to try to win me over in person." _Or see that no one else does_, she could not bring herself to even say aloud.

The prince had nothing to say to that. What could he say? For some reason, that thought made her angry. The queen found herself rambling on. "That's not even the best part. The most effective plan I've come up with is to try to stall them while they're here. Playing as if they're invited guests to Anna's wedding. I've turned my sister's marriage into political theatre, with a cast of empires that will resound through history. What is Arendelle to them? What am I, but a new weapon?"

"You and I both know better than that."

"How wonderful!" Elsa sniffed derisively. "All we have to do is convince the greatest nations of the world of it. What hope do I have?"

"There is always hope."

It was one trite remark too many. Unable to contain her anger any longer, she whirled on him. A crescent of icicles sprang from the ground between them as a sudden blast of freezing air tore at their cloaks. "Hope, is there? Whoever told you such a foolish thing?"

He stood firm against her fury, unblinking. He held out his hands, palms open, an unthreatening gesture that was almost a shrug. "You did."

Her rage died in an instant, replaced by confusion. The wind stilled. "What?"

He looked away as he replied, staring into the distance. "It wasn't long ago that you met a broken man, hiding in shame in a tiny shack for fear of what his powers were doing to the land. He told you it was his fault, believing that all the world's ills could be laid at his feet. You told him not to give up, that there is always hope." Finally, he met her gaze. "And you were right."

Elsa was speechless for a moment. She turned away from Uriel, ashamed, and not just for her anger. It had been months since the last involuntary outburst of her powers. A glance showed that it had thankfully gone unnoticed; the trolls were still absorbed in the preparations for the ceremony, and everyone else had been swept up in their enthusiasm. Literally, in some cases.

"I know that doesn't help. Nothing I can say will," Uriel went on. "But don't let the world intimidate you into becoming something you're not. You're too strong for that."

"I wish I could believe you," Elsa muttered. "It certainly doesn't seem that way. I feel like a little girl, hiding beneath the sheets after a nightmare, waiting for her parents to show up and tell her everything will be all right."

"Eventually we all learn that there are no monsters in the closet. I can assure you, I'm an expert on such things. I've looked in Sera's more than once."

She managed a little smile at that. "If only ambassadors were so easy to dismiss."

"Aren't they, though? No matter whom they represent, at the end of the day they're only people, just like you and me."

"Easier said than done. In all my life I never expected to meet the kind of people who are on their way to visit now. France, the United Kingdom, Russia, Austria: the greatest empires in the world. And Denmark-Norway, a kingdom that would be my own suzerain if Arendelle had been large enough for them to care about before now."

"Kristensand's, as well. When he declared himself king, my father received a rather annoyed letter from Frederick VI, though nothing ever came of it." Uriel chuckled, giving her a sly smile. "I'll have to warn Sera to keep her voice down, lest we attract their ambassador's attention while we're here."

Elsa was relieved to find herself feeling better enough to take that as the joke it was. She was surprised outright that a return quip sprang to mind. "I'm sure Anna can show you a few good hiding places."

"We would be in her debt for that. So those are the august presences we have to look forward to at the wedding?"

"Those, and the Confederation of the Rhine. I'm almost looking forward to meeting their representative; I'm named for my great-grandmother, who was born in Frankfurt. And there might be others. Minister Henrik has warned me of some possible surprise visits. He's even calling them party crashers."

"Well, we all know how to deal with such riffraff."

Her amusement guttered out. "They'll be the only ones I know how to deal with."

Uriel sobered, sensing her unease. "That's what you're really worried about, isn't it? It's not their fear of your magic, or the importance of their countries. You're wound up like a pocket watch, and it's what you're going to do that concerns you so."

For weeks Elsa had been worrying over the arrival of the ambassadors. Ever since the meeting in Minister Henrik's office, something had been eating away at her. But no, her powers weren't the problem; she might never be able to _convince_ everyone that she wasn't a threat, but she did know – body and soul, with ironclad certainty – that she _wasn't_. And that was what mattered, because the magic was part of her.

The visitors themselves weren't the problem, either. It took some getting used to, certainly, being noticed by great nations as more than just an inconsequential dot on a map. But who they were, where they came from, and what they thought of her mattered little against how they treated her kingdom. She was who she was, and she was the Snow Queen. That meant the safety of Arendelle and her people were paramount. Powers or no powers, that was her duty, and there was no doubt in her heart over the matter.

Who stood before her was irrelevant. Be they the Emperor of France or the most humble petitioner to her court, all were equal in her eyes. What they wanted was irrelevant. Whether it was simple justice in a dispute or misguided dreams of abusing her powers, she would never allow fear to compromise who she was.

Even so, she was faced with two mutually exclusive conditions. First: she would not use her powers to hurt others. With intent or by accident, friend or foe, it made no matter. That didn't mean she would hesitate at all to defend herself or those she cared about, only that she would do so in a way that did not inflict harm. Second: some people wanted her to do just that. They were powerful people, ones who could seriously threaten herself, her family, and her kingdom, and they would not be easily denied. How was she to dissuade them without using the very methods and magic she refused to consider employing on their behalf?

Elsa realized that Uriel might just be correct. The true challenge, the subconscious wound that had bled joy from her life for two weeks, was figuring out how she was going to get herself out of this mess.

She had no answer to that. Not yet. But at least now she was focused on the right question.

"I wish you could see yourself, right at this moment."

Elsa jumped, startled back to the present. She realized she had been standing in the clearing, lost in thought, for quite some time. Uriel was watching her, a fervent light in his usually calm grey eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to wander off like that."

He nodded once, turning away with the ghost of a smile on his face. "I saw something different. As though the person I met last year finally came back."

_How long can she stay this time? _Elsa wondered. The questions remained. The weights of doubt, of responsibility, of duty were still there, threatening to crush her. But she would push back. For herself. For Arendelle. For Anna.

_Speaking of whom_... "Well, enough dawdling. By the looks of things, they're about to get started without us. Come on, it's not every day I get the chance to see my sister married by trolls."

As they approached, it appeared that the trolls were on the verge of tossing Anna and Kristoff into a shallow pit beneath an arch of moss-covered stones. The two were not difficult to spot. Anna was bedecked in gems and moss, with a headdress of woven ferns. Kristoff cut quite a figure himself in a long green cloak with a mantle of grass, and the crown of twigs was a nice touch.

When she saw her sister walking up, Anna managed to extricate herself from the process, waving the trolls away. "Just a second, guys. Elsa, there you are. You almost missed it!"

"They certainly don't waste any time, do they?"

"I told you so," Anna said. She looked at Kristoff with a rueful smirk. "Now if only our wedding in Arendelle was this easy to plan!"

Elsa couldn't help but laugh. "You know who to blame for that."

"Guilty," she acknowledged. "But after today I get to blame Kristoff for it, right?"

"I dunno," he said, grinning up at her from his spot inside the pit, "I'm not sure if troll ceremonies are legally binding. You might have to hold off for a couple more weeks."

"Oh, fine. The wait will totally be worth it, though."

Elsa looked to Pabbie, who was standing at the edge of the pit with a small book in his hands. She made a gesture towards the pile of stones. "Do you mind if I…?"

The old troll nodded, a knowing smile on his face. "By all means."

Elsa walked up to the lip of the crater and closed her eyes, fixing an image in her mind. With a deep breath, she opened her eyes and jabbed her foot against the ground. The bottom of her shoe made a muffled clap against the old, bare stone. She felt her magic flow as a plane of blue-white frost edged outwards, surrounding the pit with a ringing crackle. Four poles of ice, two from each side of the hole, rose from the ground, climbing to meet above the uneven pile of mossy rocks. Between the two bands of the new archway, a lattice of frost began to form. It took the shape of icy sculptures, filling the space with distinct pairs of figures. Captured in moments of frozen time, they walked, laughed, ran, and danced hand in hand through the rounded path of the mural.

When the ice stopped growing, Anna leaned in for a closer look. She took in a sharp breath. "It's us!" she gasped. Beckoning Kristoff over with one hand, she pointed at the statuettes with the other.

Tilting his tall headgear back a bit as he leaned against the edge of the pit, Kristoff squinted. Within the clearing, the haze from the steam vents left the sun partially shrouded even in the middle of the day. "Are you sure?"

The gloom was sundered by a shaft of sunlight. It pierced the clouds, surrounding the pit like a spotlight, causing the ice to glitter and gleam with a vivid blue-tinged brilliance.

"Whoa!" said Kristoff, blinking against the sudden glare before he looked again. "Wait. Does my nose really look like that?"

Elsa looked at Uriel. He was standing next to Seraphim, one arm around her shoulders, another lowering from a gesture towards the patch of open sky. A faint shimmer of white-gold light was fading from his eyes. He saw Elsa smiling at him, and smiled a little in return. She gave him a thankful nod.

Anna walked up to her, wrapping her sister in a hug. "Elsa, it's beautiful. Thank you."

"You're welcome," she replied, returning the hug. "But there's still one thing missing."

Anna stepped back, giving her a questioning look. "What's that?"

Elsa raised her hands, holding them up with palms facing each other, about a foot apart. With a ringing shimmer, motes of blue light began to form between them. She heard her sister gasp as a bouquet of flowers formed in midair. Bundled together in a wrapping of frost soft as snow and delicate as paper, ice was shaped into a dozen delicate roses. Their stems and leaves and petals were all clear as crystal, shining in the sunlight.

Tears just as bright were glittering in Anna's eyes when Elsa offered the flowers to her. "Elsa, I…" she trailed off, taking the bundle of ice into her arms with reverent delicacy.

Elsa smiled fondly. "Careful, now. They're cold, but they'll melt before long. We'd best get started."

Anna could only nod, giving her sister a last, careful one-armed hug before letting Kristoff help her down into the pit. Elsa went to stand by Seraphim and Uriel as Pabbie moved forward.

"Now, then." The elder cleared his throat. "Do you, Anna, take Kristoff to be your trollfully wedded husband?"

"I do," she said, looking up with a smile.

"And do you, Kristoff, take Anna to be your trollfully wedded wife?"

"I do," he replied, looking down with an equally heartfelt expression.

In Pabbie's hands, the book snapped shut. The humans all looked at him, blinking in confusion. They found the trolls staring back, blinking expectantly.

"Well?" said Pabbie, gazing at Kristoff with a wide smile and one long, grassy eyebrow raised. "What are you waiting for, an invitation?"

Expression dawning into an enormous grin, he took Anna in his arms. From trolls and humans, one and all, a cheer went up amongst the clearing as the couple kissed.

They broke apart a moment later, flushed and laughing as the happy noise redoubled. Anna turned, looking at Elsa with a grin that was positively wicked. With a one-handed heave, she tossed her bouquet of ice flowers, the bundle spinning in midair. Anna's aim was hardly perfect, and the high arc sent ephemeral rainbows dancing across the clearing as the flowers caught the sun.

Before anyone else could move to catch them, a tower of trolls standing five-high upon one another's shoulders teetered precariously into view. The one at the top still had to jump to intercept the bundle, and when it landed the entire group tumbled with a chorus of shouts into an untidy heap. The cheers were replaced with laughter, its happy echoes seeming to fill the world to bursting as they bounded among the dell.

* * *

><p>...<p>

* * *

><p>It was midafternoon when they were once more in sight of Arendelle. Elsa was grateful for the slow journey back, if only to practice mastery of her composure when picturing Anna and Kristoff in their wedding costumes. The joy of listening to the laughter and stories from the others as they rode was an added bonus.<p>

Back inside the city they progressed carefully through the midday bustle, waving to acknowledge the greetings shouted by passersby when they recognized their queen and princess. They were nearly to the castle gates when Elsa caught sight of a guard, weaving his way through the crowd at a near sprint. She gripped the reins tightly when Enceladus shied back from the man's headlong rush. She fought to keep the horse from rearing, even as she turned her head this way and that to watch the guard as he stumbled to a stop in front of her.

"Your Majesty!" he gasped. "We saw your return from the gatehouse. Thank goodness you're back in time."

"What is it?" she asked. "What's happened?"

"Word from the watchman at the lighthouse," he said breathlessly. "A ship has been spotted!"

"This is a port city, isn't it?" Seraphim asked, smiling as she sidled her horse closer to find out what the fuss was about. "That happens from time to time."

"It's not a trader," the guard protested, wide-eyed. "It's a ship of the line, and she flies an ensign of the Nordic Cross. White on red, the Dannebrog. The ambassador from Denmark-Norway is here!"

.

.

.

.

.

* * *

><p><strong>*AN* - **Saturn's moon Enceladus was discovered by William Herschel in 1789. Alas, as she's a few centuries too early for pictures from Cassini, Elsa would have no way of knowing that it is one of the most beautiful ice sculptures in existence.

Edit 2/6/14: Corrected some of Elsa's thoughts for clarity.


	8. Chapter Seven: The First Ambassador

**Frozen is the property of Disney.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER SEVEN<strong>

**The First Ambassador**

Arendelle's docks were often busy, swarming with men working to load or unload the steady traffic of trading vessels that called at port. Crews went about their business with practiced efficiency, whether that business was moving several tons of cargo in or out of one of the dockside warehouses or a brief stop in the port taverns for the promise of a meal that didn't include hardtack. Time was tides, and tides were money to the merchant mariners, whether they were bartering goods for sale or stopping for fresh water and provisions. Few ships lingered long outside the city's seawall.

That made the sight of a Danish warship dropping anchor into an event of some note. The rest of the seaborne traffic gave the vessel a wide berth, even before the launch was lowered from the aftercastle. The small shuttle proceeded into the harbor on the strength of a dozen oars, its single sail of stained red canvas hanging idle in the calm winds.

Elsa stood at the stonework ledge that overlooked the piers, hands clasped before her, staring as the tiny ship grew steadily larger. A half-dozen guards in the green uniforms and tall caps of the Arendelle guard were arrayed at attention nearby, their faces masks of grim neutrality. To her right, Anna stood watching the approaching vessel in silent solidarity. To her left, Minister Henrik paced in short, slow segments, stroking his goatee. His boots clapped against the cobblestones in a steady rhythm, one far less rapid than the sound of the heartbeats that pounded in Elsa's ears.

"The envoy the Danish King's letter described can be only one man," the foreign minister said, his voice calm and certain. "Christian Frederick, Prince of Denmark and heir presumptive to the throne."

The name was familiar to Elsa, though a name was all it was. Her inexperience with the wider world was proving a troublesome hindrance. "What do you know about him?"

"I've met the man, most recently when he negotiated our new trade agreement last year. He seemed well-disposed to us, but I cannot guess how the exposure of your magic might have shifted his impression."

"So he knew about my powers before?"

"I made no effort to hide them during negotiations, Queen Elsa, per your instructions. The news may have played to our advantage at the time; he seemed rather distracted after that point in the talks. Since then, he has had more than long enough to process the facts and consult with his superiors in Copenhagen. Be on guard, Your Majesty. Say what you have to say, but remember why he is here."

That advice was entirely unnecessary. She was not about to forget the nature of any of these visitors at this point.

"Don't worry," Anna said, giving Elsa's elbow a reassuring squeeze. "You'll do fine."

Elsa managed a grateful smile in return. Kristoff and the others had returned to the castle, but Anna had insisted on remaining at her side to help greet the ambassador. If they were going to claim to welcome them as guests to the wedding, she had reasoned, it made perfect sense for her to be there. Not for the first time, Elsa marveled at her sister's growing perceptiveness. Anna had always loved being around people, but the queen had never expected a few months of practice to transform that extroverted nature into the makings of a canny socialite. She pushed those ruminations aside as the launch was steered abreast the nearest pier. Lines were tossed across the gap and tied down, pulling the ship close enough for its passengers to disembark.

Almost before it had come to a stop, a young man leapt nimbly onto the planks of the dock. He was dressed in a fine red tunic with shoulder boards with silver tassels, several medals of station pinned to his chest. Pale white breeches were tucked into tall black boots that were polished to a reflective sheen. In the space of a glance he caught sight of Elsa and the welcoming party, making his way down the pier with long-legged strides. The queen and her company descended the steps to meet him, waiting at the edge of the wooden pathway that ran along the length of the stone retaining wall.

Stopping a few feet short of arm's length away, the man plunged into an elaborate bow. "Christian Frederick, Hereditary Prince of Denmark-Norway, at your service." Rising from the bow, he swept a hand back through a head of dark, curly hair, an easy smile splitting his handsome face to reveal rows of perfect teeth. As first impressions went, he could not have done anything more to seem every inch the storybook prince.

The last man that Elsa had met who qualified for such a description had tried to kill her, after leaving her sister locked in a room to die. It was fortunate that she was not the first person to speak.

"Your Highness, welcome to Arendelle," said Minister Henrik. "I have the honor to introduce Her Majesty Queen Elsa, as well as her sister, Princess Anna."

"My ladies, it is an honor to meet you face-to-face at last," Frederick said smoothly. "None of the minister's words could ever have done you justice. I regret already that I did not have the chance to be introduced during my last visit, which proved all too brief."

Mastering the discomfort from her initial impression, the courtesies sprang to Elsa's mind almost without thinking. "I hope that our partnership in trade will remedy that lost opportunity with a long and fruitful relationship," she said. "And in that spirit, I am pleased to welcome you to my kingdom."

"Well said," Frederick replied, smiling in a way that oozed negligent charisma. "I can only hope our early acquaintance will serve us well in the establishment of more significant ties."

"I share those aspirations," said Elsa. With a steadying breath, she plunged ahead. Now it was time for the tricky part. "To that end, the hospitality of Arendelle is yours. We had not expected your arrival for some days, but we will make your stay as comfortable as we can until the wedding."

"Wedding?" he asked. There was a strange note in his voice that was anything but confusion. Elsa blinked in surprise as he dropped to one knee, his head bowed, right fist clenched to his opposite shoulder. "Your Majesty, I could never have dreamt of such a stroke of fortune. One look upon your face is all I require to assent to such an arrangement. I am yours."

Elsa sputtered, her mouth moving in soundless confusion as she stared at the prince's bowed head. Of all the myriad courses she had expected this conversation to take, this eventuality was not among them. Out the corner of her eye, Minister Henrik looked almost as shocked as she was.

"Now wait just a minute!" Anna barked. "_I'm_ the one getting married around here, not Elsa! And certainly not to you!"

Frederick returned to his feet, rakish smile still fixed upon his face. "Quite right, Your Highness. Please forgive my crude humor. Though I would hazard that no man alive would fault me for trying, given the potential rewards."

Elsa was still stunned at his brazen effrontery. Far too much so to be in a position to stop Anna as she stepped forward, a scowl of radiant fury on her face, to greet the prince with a two-handed shove directly into his chest.

If she had not already been speechless, the look of surprise on Frederick's face as he stumbled backwards would have accomplished it. Elsa was still frozen in place as the royal ambassador from the Kingdom of Denmark-Norway disappeared off the edge of the pier.

But, when all things were considered, he did fall into the harbor with a very satisfying splash.

* * *

><p>...<p>

* * *

><p>"You're sure you're okay?"<p>

The reply to Anna's hesitant query was prefaced with a boisterous laugh. "Your Highness, if a little swim is the harshest lesson I take in learning that the royal sisters of Arendelle are not to be trifled with, I will count myself fortunate."

Once the parties had availed themselves of the benefits of cooler heads and drier clothes, Prince Frederick had been invited into the castle for dinner. The meal was being served in the formal dining room, more opulent than the cozy quarters that hosted family meals but still far smaller than the grand banquet hall off the castle's ballroom. Ideally designed for a party of twenty-one, it held three long tables arranged edge-to-edge in a wide U-shape, each with placements for seven diners along the outside edge. The open end was facing the massive double doors that admitted the waiters as they brought a steady stream of savory dishes up from the kitchens.

Those sitting at the tables were comfortably spaced, though still close enough to one another for easy conversation. Elsa sat at the figurative head, the middle of the table directly opposite the doors. Anna was to her immediate right, followed by Kristoff, with Prince Frederick seated at the corner. Minister Henrik and Bishop William were to his right, along the table set perpendicular to that side. To Elsa's left were Seraphim, Uriel, and Mayor Lucas. Sebastian was the lone occupant of the far left table, the steward looking somewhat forlorn and out-of-place without his trusty ledger at hand.

"I really am sorry," Anna insisted, smiling sheepishly over her salad. "I try not to make a habit of pushing people into the ocean."

"Ah, so you're saying I've been accorded an uncommon honor, then?" Frederick said, with a grin as pointed as his fork. "In that case, I am most humbled."

It had not taken long for Elsa to realize that Prince Frederick was not at all what she had expected an ambassador to be. Moments after his tumble off the pier, Anna's anger had dimmed to the point where all of them had realized the gravity of the potential insult she had caused. Before Elsa could even begin to wonder how she might salvage the situation, though, Frederick had emerged from his fall into the harbor laughing uproariously. His retinue, which had scrambled out of the launch at the sight of the prince's tumble, had been waved off with glib remarks as the prince had pulled himself, sodden and dripping, up the ladder back onto the pier.

But despite his outward good humor, Elsa could not shake her impression of the man. His easy laughter and quick wit made a pleasant mask, but that mask hid a keen mind that had turned almost every word she had said to him on the docks against her without so much as a pause for thought. To this point only the sheer instinctive impetuousness of Anna's shove had proven capable of provoking a reaction that was not slathered with premeditated charm, and the look of surprise elicited in that instant had not lasted longer than the man's swim back to the surface.

"So then, it seems congratulations are in order," said Frederick, raising his glass towards Anna and Kristoff. "Forgive my manners for not saying so at once, but I wish you both every happiness."

"Thank you," Anna replied, lifting her own glass. Kristoff followed suit, his smile a bit forced.

"I find myself surprised that you were unaware of the occasion," Minister Henrik observed casually. "If you missed our invitation, I can't imagine what else could have brought you back to our humble kingdom so quickly."

At Henrik's own suggestion to Elsa, the foreign minister had decided to be the one to plead ignorance regarding the diplomatic notices, the better to maintain the ruse centered on the wedding invitations. It saved her from having to lie to the ambassadors, and forced them to declare their purpose openly instead of presuming upon her acceptance. What had at first seemed a simple and obvious sleight of hand was already dispelling Elsa's misgivings about the tactic. If the prince's actions were any reliable indication, it seemed such petty tricks were the lifeblood of diplomatic relations.

"What else, indeed," said Frederick. "The world can be such an inhospitable place. Is it strange to want to see friendly faces?"

"It's humbling that you find our company so agreeable," Bishop William said, dabbing at the edges of his mouth with a napkin. "Arendelle does not often welcome guests such as yourself."

"Once, perhaps," Frederick replied. "But times change, and those who are wise change with them."

"And how do you find Arendelle, Your Highness?" the foreign minister wondered. He leaned forward with one elbow propped upon the table, his food and drink all but forgotten before him. "How does our humble kingdom fit into the changing world?"

"That is not for me to say." The ambassador shrugged, the silver tassels around his shoulders swaying with the gesture. "Though I am anticipating the answer to that question as well. Since I find myself so early for the wedding, perhaps that is a topic we might find some time to discuss, to pass the time between now and the happy day on the horizon," he said, nodding to Anna.

Henrik's eyes narrowed. "I'm sure we'll have time for conversations on many subjects."

"Of that I have no doubt. For instance, I'm quite interested in how I seem to be far from the first guest to arrive for the ceremonies," said Frederick. His voice was casual as he sent a significant look in the direction of Seraphim and Uriel.

"Friends of the crown are always welcome in Arendelle," Henrik countered.

"Is Denmark not counted among them, then?" Frederick asked, with enough innocence to shame a saint. "You did say I was invited. Why else would you ask after my intentions?"

Elsa listened to the verbal volley and riposte while observing the faces of the participants from the corner of her eye. Even to her it was obvious that Frederick was winning the bout, parrying every question aside while dancing around arguments in a way that left everyone who tried to trip him up on the defensive. Terrified of how he might turn her words against her once more, the queen willed herself to remain silent.

"Idle curiosity, and polite conversation," said Henrik. "You are but one guest of many."

"Then you would not object if I indulge my own inquisitiveness to wonder who else might have warranted an invitation to such a humble kingdom as yours."

Elsa watched the muscles around Henrik's jaw tighten. It was becoming patently obvious who was getting more information out of whom in this exchange. At this point, it didn't even seem like a fair fight.

"Really, ambassador? Asking after the guest list to a young woman's wedding?" Seraphim leaned forward, one elbow propped upon the table, laying her cheek against her palm. "I'd say it might be faster to list who hasn't been asked to come, speaking with some authority on the matter."

"Oh?" said Frederick, turning to regard the new entrant to the verbal mêlée with interest. "I wasn't aware you had such detailed knowledge, Your Majesty. Kristensand and Arendelle must be quite close friends, indeed."

Seraphim only laughed. "You misunderstand me. All I can say with authority is that many a girl has been planning her wedding since the day she learned to spell the word. Just because I might dream of being married by the Pope doesn't mean it will happen."

"Your imagination is laudable," Frederick said with a smirk. "I can see why your kingdom has risen so high in such a short span of time, and how you have ascended with it."

If Seraphim registered the insult, which Elsa was sure she had, the young queen gave no sign. "Two years ago I was the youngest child of a duke, and now I'm a queen," she admitted. "I should think that would be a sterling example of how no one can predict what the future holds. And whether you speak of years or days, wishes or wedding guests, how similarly pointless it is to ask after what is to come."

Frederick blinked. "I was merely—"

"Making conversation?" Seraphim interrupted, all sweet guilelessness. "So was I, ambassador. So was I."

It seemed that it was not necessary to throw the man into an ocean to get the better of him after all, Elsa noted with some relief. "I'm sure there's no shortage of topics to discuss, even if we keep ourselves firmly in the present day," she said. "There's no need for weighty conversations over dinner."

As if on cue, the waiters began bringing in the covered trays of the main course, a host of delicious scents wafting towards them as the plates were set down upon the table one by one.

"A much lighter topic has already proven itself palatable," Frederick said. "The forthcoming wedding seems to have filled the town with a great energy, Your Majesty."

"It might be more accurate to say that Anna herself has filled the town with great energy," Elsa replied, giving her sister a smile and a glance.

"You know me," said Anna. "If there's one thing I have to spare, that'd be it."

"To which I can personally attest," Frederick chuckled. "With that in mind, I can express only relief at the absence of a pier in the dining room, as there is one question that begs to be asked under the circumstances."

Elsa hesitated, but managed to keep her voice steady as she asked, "What would that be?"

"With your younger sister about to be wed, Your Majesty, your own marital status is quite conspicuous."

There was a fit of coughing from Elsa's left, as Sebastian appeared to have inhaled some of his dinner. She tried her best to ignore it and maintain a calm façade as she shifted in her seat to face the ambassador. "How so?"

Frederick favored her with an expression of polite – and amused – disbelief. "Come now, Queen Elsa, such games do not suit you."

Given the man's earlier antics on the dock, this new tactic did not faze her as much as it might have otherwise. "You might say the right opportunity has not presented itself. Certainly not in present company."

There was a brief clatter of dropped silverware from behind her, accompaniment to Sebastian's slowly abating coughs. Frederick made an attempt at an expression that was almost apologetic. "Touché."

"My duty is to my kingdom and my people," Elsa went on, sublimating a burst of anger at the patent insincerity of the ambassador's demeanor. "I'd think that you of all people would appreciate my position, given the nature of your visit." She regretted the words the very instant they left her lips. Elsa had barely enough time to register her mistake before he pounced.

The smarmy contrition vanished from Frederick's expression, replaced at once with a victorious smirk. "And why is that, Your Majesty? I don't believe I've made mention of my purpose here, except to reacquaint myself with my kingdom's good friends here in Arendelle."

Elsa watched over Frederick's shoulder as Minister Henrik buried his face in one hand. _So much for posturing_, she thought bleakly. "Nothing," she muttered, a dodge so pathetic that Elsa would not have expected it to work on Kristoff's sled, nevermind the man in front of her. "I only meant… I meant that…"

"That you would appreciate her predicament, as a fellow noble and ruler," Seraphim supplied with casual confidence. "Don't you share the burden of placing your people's needs before your own, Prince Frederick? Aren't you here representing them as their potential future king, whatever the purpose of your stay?"

Elsa was stunned into silence for an instant, otherwise she could well have hugged the younger girl in sheer relief and gratitude. As it was, she seized upon the opening as soon as she found her voice. "Yes, of course. That's all I meant."

Frederick's nostrils flared, but he mastered his expression at once. Still, he seemed to find no way to flank that particular argument. "I commend your dedication," he said, by way of conceding the point. There was sufficient sarcasm in his tone to indicate that he knew the real answer, but not quite enough to take open offense.

"As do I," offered Seraphim, with a great deal more sincerity.

There was a brief chorus of "hear, hear"s all around the table, which Elsa acknowledged with a few tepid smiles. Whether they were offering honest appreciation or had merely cottoned on to her narrow escape from the jaws of a vastly superior politician, it didn't really matter. Failing to spark a diplomatic incident by being caught lying to an ambassador about her knowledge of his visit was not a success, merely one bullet she had managed to dodge from the veritable regiment of riflemen arrayed before her.

The point, after all, would not have been the lie, or even that the ambassador had caught her in it. He obviously knew already that Arendelle was aware of why he was there, but the fact remained that he couldn't say so. Politics, Elsa realized, was much like an absurdly high-stakes game of tag. Only in this game, everyone started blindfolded, and the first contestant who could make the other "it" was allowed to take the blindfold off.

"Your people are quite lucky to have you," Frederick said, holding up his glass in salute. "Which will only make the man able to win his way into your heart beside them even luckier."

For once detecting no slyness or mockery in his tone, Elsa consented to giving him a thankful nod.

"Let's make that a toast, then," said Uriel. "To Queen Elsa."

"Queen Elsa," the diners echoed, glasses raised.

"Elsa," Anna said, tapping her glass against her sister's with a wink. "Now come on, everyone. The food's getting cold!" she added, prompting a round of chuckles at the table, which faded into a renewed clink of silverware.

"That said, I fear I must ask your leave, Your Majesty," Uriel said from her left. "I find myself unwell."

He did look a bit pale, Elsa thought with some concern. She nodded, and the Black Prince slowly rose from his chair, making his way from the dining hall with deliberate steps. She watched him leave, but he did not look back. She turned to Seraphim. "Is he all right?"

The young woman stopped, fork halfway to her mouth. Her gaze shifted to the doorway her brother had departed through. "Something didn't agree with him," she said vaguely. "He'll be fine."

For some reason, Elsa didn't think she was referring to the food. "What do you mean?"

For a moment Seraphim gave Elsa an oddly searching look, her eyes narrowed. Then she glanced over Elsa's shoulder, in the direction of Frederick.

Elsa turned, seeing the ambassador intent in conversation with Minister Henrik. She looked back to Seraphim questioningly. "What is it?"

"Nothing, just…" she began, seeming hesitant. "It's not an easy thing sometimes, looking in a mirror."

That comment only served to increase Elsa's confusion. "Wait. You mean… Frederick?" Beyond dark colored hair and a shared title, she could hardly think of two people less alike than Uriel and the Danish ambassador. The attempt to reconcile calm and formal Uriel against the ruthless politician three seats away, with his unscrupulous flirting and syrupy charm, almost made Elsa's head hurt.

The young queen sighed. "It's complicated, and I'm not sure I can explain it."

Elsa smiled. "Really? I just saw you talk circles around a man who was about to eat my foreign minister and I as appetizers."

Seraphim gave a sniff of laughter. "That was easy."

Elsa couldn't help but lift an amused eyebrow at that statement. "For you, maybe. It certainly wasn't for me."

"He wasn't expecting me to fight back. They never do. But that's not what I meant. Politics is always easy compared to family."

Elsa nodded. "I see. I'm sorry, you can forget I asked. I don't mean to pry."

"No, it's…" Sera frowned. "Uri wouldn't mind. I think he'd even want you to know. You already do, in part."

That statement only renewed her confusion. "I'm not sure I follow."

Seraphim took a moment, visibly gathering her thoughts before she began. "The drought changed him. But more than that, _you_ changed him."

"Me?" said Elsa, unable to keep a note of polite disbelief out of her voice. Not counting the handful of polite letters exchanged over the past few months, she and Uriel had barely spent two weeks in each other's company since they'd met. "I don't see how that's possible."

"You've known him less than a year, but he's been my brother all my life. I love him dearly, but that doesn't mean I couldn't see who he was," Seraphim explained. "Uriel was our father's son, handsome and dashing and without a care in the world." She smiled. It was a small expression, thin and wistful. "I never knew our mother, but I could read between the lines of the stories Uri told me. She tried to teach him, to tame him, but she died when he was only five."

Elsa could recall Uriel mentioning his mother only once, when he had told her of how Duchess Helena had helped him learn to control his magic as a boy. "I'm sorry," she said to Seraphim, for want of something more significant to ease the hole in the younger girl's heart. It was a pain Elsa herself was all too familiar with.

Sera waved the apology away. "There's nothing for you to be sorry about; Mother died when I was a few months old. But back to my point. Uri was a good brother. He protected me, helped raise me, and he could always make me laugh. But calling him a good person would have been a stretch. He was vain, a little reckless, and like our friend at the end of the table, more interested in getting what he wanted than who he stepped over along the way."

"You make him sound almost cruel," Elsa said. She could hardly disagree with Seraphim's statements – she was Uriel's sister, after all – but that didn't make it any easier to believe.

"He wasn't cruel, no. But he was better at making the good joke than he was at seeing the hurt feelings it could leave at someone else's expense. And…" she trailed off uncomfortably.

Elsa's brow furrowed. She was concerned by Seraphim's reticence, but found herself surprisingly curious as well. "And what?"

"Ugh," Sera groaned. "This isn't something a sister should be gossiping about. How can I put this delicately…? Let's just say he was not overly concerned by a few broken hearts."

"Oh," said Elsa. She blinked in sudden comprehension. "Oh."

Seraphim smiled sheepishly. It was an uncommon expression for her, and it made her look a great deal like Anna. "I'm sure I'll pay for revealing that someday. But it's all ancient history. The drought… it opened his eyes. It wasn't just one person and a cutting remark. It was our city, all our people. And, he believed, all his fault. The laughter dried up with the rivers. The vanity withered like the crops. When Father passed away, that was the last of it. Uriel won't talk about it, but I wonder if he didn't believe that the drought had been sent to punish him for who he was. I know it sounds callous, but if it hadn't been so hard, I'm not sure it would have really gotten to him."

"But it was all Catalina's doing. He knows that now, doesn't he?"

Seraphim's entire demeanor twisted with distaste. "That's a name I'll hate for the rest of my life."

Elsa paled, cursing her ill consideration. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring her up."

"No, I'm not mad at you," Sera said, her expression softening with reassurance. "That woman was never any friend of mine, but it's thanks to you I have a firmer reason to hate her than that she was a pretentious, insufferable…" she trailed off with an eloquent scowl. "Ahem. It's also thanks to you and Anna that I'm even still alive to hate her, instead of the other way around."

Elsa glanced over her shoulder, but her sister was absorbed in her dinner and a discussion with Kristoff, not necessarily in that order. She turned back to her fellow queen. "You give me too much credit, I think."

"Do I?" Seraphim wondered. "For two years that woman consumed my father from the inside out, baked my homeland like a human oven, and then she tried to do the same to the rest of my family. I lost two brothers in the fire that destroyed our castle. But you gave me one of them back."

Elsa felt herself flushing with the earnest praise in Sera's voice. "I still don't see how any of that was my doing."

"Apart from the obvious?"

Elsa realized what she meant, then. The healing snow that had fallen on the charred remnants of the Kristensand town hall was still beyond her understanding. Elsa had yet to manage to replicate that piece of magic, so she found it difficult to take credit for. Still, it would have been rude to disagree, and she certainly never regretted that it had happened. "My magic helped, but I still don't see how I'm to thank for changing Uriel. It sounds like the drought did that on its own."

"It burned away who he was," Seraphim acknowledged. Then she smiled, full of gratitude and joy. "But in Uri's own words, 'every ship needs a star to steer by'. It was you that gave him an example of someone better to be."

Elsa found no words to reply to that. Thankfully, none seemed to be expected.


	9. Chapter Eight: Expectations

**Frozen is the property of Disney.**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER EIGHT<strong>

**Expectations**

The three days after the arrival of the first embassy were blessedly uneventful, in no small part because of Elsa's determined avoidance of Ambassador Frederick. After her narrow escape in the conversation over dinner, she was reluctant to try her luck again in the political arena so quickly. The Danish prince sent requests by courier for an audience at least twice each day, and Elsa promptly declined every appeal, pleading a busy schedule owing to preparations for Anna's wedding.

It was an excuse, and Elsa knew it. But it also had the benefit of being true. The days were uneventful, but by no means idle, with less than two weeks now before the ceremony. Sometimes it seemed that for every item she managed to cross off the list of preparations, two more sprang up its place. Even Anna was starting to look a little frazzled, though part of that might have come from being cooped up in the castle more than she had become accustomed to. Captain Martin had proven most intractable as far as the royal family's security was concerned, and could not be swayed from his policy of escorts at all times outside the castle's residential floor.

Worst off in this arrangement was Kristoff, who had been all but forced to accept one of the empty rooms in the family quarters. Always at home out of doors, his discomfort had been manifest ever since. Never particularly sociable, he had become moody and withdrawn, especially when Anna was not around. And so it was, early in the afternoon, that Elsa found herself outside her brother-in-law-to-be's door, having sensed the need for an intervention of sorts, as well as an opportunity.

Her knock was answered before the sound had even faded down the empty hallway, but the hopeful look on Kristoff's face when he opened the door vanished in an instant. Elsa might have been put out by such a reception, but his expression was so forlorn that what came to her mind were pity, a small bit of amusement, and something small and niggling that might almost have been jealousy. "I'm sorry, Kristoff. Anna's still trapped in her dress fitting. I'm afraid it might be a few hours before she's free."

His hangdog look bobbed in a brief, disconsolate nod. "I figured. I guess I was just hoping she might have ditched it to get us out of here for a while." Shoving his hands into his pockets, he paced away from the door. Abruptly realizing that Elsa was still standing outside, he stopped. "Err, sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. Guess I'm just going a little stir-crazy. Would you like to come in?"

"Actually, I was wondering if you'd like to get out for a while," she countered. "I was heading into town for some errands, and could use the company."

"Sure." His eyes might have narrowed briefly, but Kristoff's legs were already carrying him out the door. "You don't just need me to carry things, do you?"

Elsa laughed, falling into stride beside him as they made their way through the hall towards the spiral staircase. "No. I imagine we can put our escort to use if it comes to that."

"Good," he grumbled, with a dark look at the guards who began following them as soon as their feet hit the first stairs outside the second floor.

"I'm sorry," Elsa said sincerely. "I know you've got a lot to get used to, living like this."

He was silent for a long moment, almost until they had rounded the stairway onto the lowest level and into the entrance hall. "It's not your fault. It's not just the shadows, or living in a castle, or the fact that it's sinking in that I'm about to marry a princess. It's kind of… all of them at once that's the problem."

"That's understandable," Elsa replied, as the guards at the double doors before them began pushing open the gates into the courtyard.

"Some fresh air will help," he said, taking a deep breath as they stepped into the sunlight, pointedly ignoring the full contingent of men in green tunics and tall hats that materialized around them. "It just adds up, you know?"

It was Elsa's turn for a moment of quiet consideration as they walked across the courtyard. "As a matter of fact," she said, "I do." The way to the bridge into the city was already clear, the outer gates standing open to admit them. That was the legacy of a promise to Anna that Elsa very much meant to keep.

"So where're we going?" Kristoff wondered.

"Two stops. The first isn't far." She pointed. "That shop right there at the corner of the market."

He chuckled. "The Chocolate Factory. Why am I not surprised?"

In spite of its audacious name, the store in question was positively tiny. Perched at the end of a small covered boardwalk overlooking the main market square, it could scarcely have been more than ten feet wide. There was room for little more than the space of a door and a single pane of glass next to it, painted with fresh, clear letters that spelled the shop's name in florid characters.

Elsa gestured their escort to a halt. "You all can wait here. It would be awfully crowded otherwise, and we won't be long." Without giving any of them a chance to muster a protest, she went inside.

The door opened with the merry jingle of an attached bell, revealing that the place made up for in depth what it lacked in width. A long, tall set of shelves bisected the store, with more shelves lining the walls to each side. Wrappers, boxes, and baskets of all shapes, sizes, and colors filled every available inch from floor to ceiling, a sight almost as intoxicating as the rich, sweet smell that wafted over them as soon as they stepped inside. Elsa tried not to smile as she felt her tastebuds tingle.

"Welcome, welcome!" a jolly, thickly accented voice called. Far, far back through the two aisles, a single counter was set crosswise. Stepping out from behind it was a woman taller than either Elsa or Kristoff, and broader than both of them together. Her face was wide and homely, but her smile was even wider, and her cheeks were flushed and rosy.

"Hello, Oda," Elsa said, making her way towards the woman to meet her. The tantalizing scents grew even more powerful as they got closer to the door behind the counter that led to the kitchen.

"Queen Elsa, dear, what a pleasure to see you again!" The woman wiped her hands on her apron. The gesture did little to relieve them of the spots of white and brown, for the cloth was even more splotched with flour, sugar, and chocolate than her hands were. "And who is this? Oh, it must be young Kristoff! Anna has told me so much about you!"

"Forgive my manners," said Elsa. "Kristoff, this is Oda Willamette, Arendelle's foremost chocolatier."

"Arendelle's _only_ chocolatier, dear, but I appreciate the flattery," said Oda, beaming.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Willamette," said Kristoff.

She turned toward him. "Now, now, no need for that. I'm a good, honest daughter of the fjords. While the queen would never stoop to it, you, young man, will do as all my friends and customers in town do, and call me Willy."

The woman's boisterous joy was infectious, and Elsa saw Kristoff crack a small smile. "Okay then. Willy it is."

"That's better. Now, how can I help you?"

Elsa reached into one of the pockets lining the inside of her cloak, producing a single sheet of paper which she offered to Willy. "I'm sure you can guess."

The woman clapped and giggled, bouncing in a way that was almost frightening in a woman of her size. "Oh, at last!" She took the paper and began scanning it eagerly. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me."

"Never," Elsa said. "It just took Anna and I a while to finalize the list of desserts we'd like at the wedding reception."

Without taking her eyes off the list, Willy moved behind the counter, reaching up and effortlessly plucking the topmost book from a small pile on a shelf above the register. Dropping it onto the counter with a thud, she opened it to reveal an inventory. She flipped through the pages, tracing a finger down the neatly stenciled lines as she glanced back and forth between the book and the note in her hand. "Well, I'm more than happy to have the custom of the royal family. You should visit from time to time, dear. Though I don't blame you. If I still had a figure like yours, I'd stay well away from chocolate shops myself!" She laughed merrily.

"I know there's a lot there, and that it's short notice," Elsa said, smiling a little uncomfortably. "Will you have enough time?"

"Oh, don't you worry about that," the older woman said. She pulled out a small notepad and began writing, eyes still darting between the list and her ledger. "I've known you girls long enough to have guessed a bit beforehand." She frowned. "No cake, hmm?"

Kristoff, who had drifted to one side of the shop to browse the shelves, stopped. He looked at Elsa. "The cake will be chocolate, won't it? Anna's been very insistent about that."

"Now there's a good man," said Willy, giving Kristoff a wink.

"Yes, it will be chocolate," Elsa assured him, before turning back to Willy. "And you won't have to worry about that. Gordon will be making the wedding cake."

"Ah, well," the chocolatier sighed. "I suppose the castle's head chef would be a bit put out if he didn't get to make the cake for a royal wedding. And with a tongue like his, I don't fancy crossing him any more than you do ," she said, giving Elsa a knowing look. With a final scratching flourish of her pencil, she tore off the top sheet from her notepad and offered it to Kristoff. "Here you go, lad."

Crossing the distance to the register in two short steps, he took the paper with a questioning look. After a single glance down, he went pale. "S-s-sixteen hundred?!" he gasped weakly.

"Oh, Oda, you're a fiend," Elsa said, snatching the bill from Kristoff's precarious grasp. With a cursory glance, she took the quill pen from the inkwell beside the register and leaned over to affix her signature to the bottom of the paper. "You'll want to see Sebastian for this," she said, handing the bill back to the shopkeeper.

One of Willy's eyebrows crept upwards. "Oh?"

With a quick, nervous glance towards Kristoff, Elsa gave a small shake of her head. "He's handling all the wedding expenses. You know how he gets about his bookkeeping."

The older woman peered down at her, eyebrow inching even higher. "I see," she replied, not sounding like it at all. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, and then she shrugged. "As you say. Everything'll be ready, never you fear."

"I'm glad to hear it," said Elsa.

"And I'll be there myself, of course! I was flattered as could be to have Princess Anna deliver my invitation herself. Still got it right here," she patted the pocket of her right hip. "I've got a new dress coming in and everything!"

Elsa glanced at the clock hanging above the door behind the counter. "Speaking of which, we'd best hurry or we'll be late for Kristoff's appointment at the tailor. Thank you, Oda."

"Right, my appointment. With the tailor," said Kristoff, his voice finally returning as Elsa ushered him towards the door. "Wait, what?"

The door closed behind them, muffling another happy jingle as they returned to the sunlight and their waiting escort.

"Your Majesty, forgive me, but our orders are to remain with you at all times," one of the guards said.

Elsa suppressed a sigh. "Captain Martin's vigilance does him credit. But be reasonable, sergeant." She waved at the window of the store behind her. "This woman has known my family for years. Her brother owns a trading post up in the mountains. I'd wager that almost all of you have shopped here yourselves and know her by name." Unable to stem a last burst of bitterness, she added, "Besides, I'd have to eat something for her to poison me. Now come along, or we really will be late getting to the tailor's." She tried not to let the shocked looks faze her as she made her way under the awning of the boardwalk.

So focused was she on the path ahead, Elsa heard Kristoff's heavy footfalls beside her without seeing him. "You all right?" he asked.

Elsa's eyes remained fixed on the reassuringly even intervals of the wooden planks passing beneath her feet. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped like that," she replied, more to the guards a few paces behind them than to the man walking next to her who had asked the question.

For a while, there was only the background hum of the market for noise. Kristoff cleared his throat. "Look, I know it's not really my place to say anything…" he began. He trailed off when Elsa came to an abrupt halt, and gave her a curious look. The guards shuffled around them, forming a small cordon in the midst of the merchants' square.

Elsa studied Kristoff for a moment with narrowed eyes, hands rubbing nervously at her elbows as she hugged her arms across her stomach. While she hadn't lied about the errands she'd needed to run in town, this moment was the real reason she had drawn Kristoff out with her. Hindsight had revealed many mistakes she'd made over the last few years, and in spite of everything that had happened after her coronation, it seemed she was only making more since her reign had become official. Elsa only hoped she had enough time to start correcting them.

Despite the firm resolve she had displayed during her conversation with Sebastian – what seemed like a lifetime ago, before this descent into political madness – Elsa was not without misgivings about Anna and Kristoff's marriage. In the aftermath of her winter, when Elsa had yet to so much as speak with the burly blonde stranger her sister was heaping praise upon, she'd been tempted to find some reward for the ice harvester and allow him to go on his way. When Anna had approached her about the promise of a new sled and the idea of a title ("Official Ice Master and Deliverer", of all the nonsense things), Elsa had realized just how much Kristoff meant to her sister.

Terrified of a repeat of the fiasco with Prince Hans, she'd acceded to Anna's wishes, trusting that her sister had learned her own lessons. It had quickly become apparent that while she wasn't about to sprint to the altar again, Anna was still quite determined to pursue a relationship. Without cause – or perhaps the courage – to tell her sister no, Elsa had decided not to interfere. After what happened in Kristensand, any doubts about what Anna and Kristoff felt for one another had vanished, which only made the prospect of intervention on Elsa's part even more remote.

That had left the queen with another dilemma: Arendelle's line of succession. With her decision not to marry, a significant portion of her dowry spent to supply the kingdom for the past winter, and her sister now deeply involved in a relationship with a commoner that Elsa had done nothing to discourage, the queen had been left in a bind. Breaking Anna's heart was out of the question, which left Elsa with two options. She could pursue a marriage, but, personal misgivings aside, it would take years to replenish her dower trust with shares of the crown's income. Or, she could trust Arendelle's future to her sister and Kristoff, and any children they might have.

Months spent waffling – Elsa had told herself that she still had time to decide, or that she was too busy, or that she was waiting for Anna and Kristoff to make things official – had in essence made the choice for her. And in so doing, meant she had made the decision without troubling herself to consult the people it most affected.

Taking a deep breath, Elsa steeled herself for the conversation that was the consequence of her mistake. "Kristoff, when you say it's not your place… I don't think I really know what place it is you're talking about."

His mouth opened for a moment, then closed into a frown. "I guess I don't, either."

"In a few days, you're going to marry my sister," the queen sighed. "But somehow I never bothered to ask what you expect to come of this."

His frown deepened nearly into a scowl. "Expect?"

"Hear me out, please," Elsa said, taking a step closer and lowering her voice so they could speak with some semblance of privacy, words lost to any potential eavesdropper beneath the bustle of the marketplace. "I know you love Anna. And I know you've had a lot to take in this past week. You chose not to take residence in the castle before, and neither of us pressed you on it. But in a little over ten days, you're going to marry a _princess_. Do you understand what I'm getting at?"

The anger dissipated as Kristoff scratched at the back of his neck. "More than you think," he said, barely loud enough to be heard over the background hum of conversation, footfalls, and rattle of carts. "Look, what do you want me to say?"

She studied him frankly. "I never want you to tell me only what I want to hear, for a start. That's not the man my sister fell in love with."

He slumped for a moment in defeated silence. But when he stood up straight again and looked at her, she was reassured by the determination she saw. It was good to know that the man who had led Anna up and down the slopes and drifts of the north mountain was still there. "Fine. In that case, I'll tell you that I have absolutely no idea what's going to happen. And that terrifies me."

Elsa felt for him, but comforting Kristoff was not her objective. Quite the opposite, in fact. She needed to push him, albeit gently. "Why?"

He began pacing back and forth inside the space of their little island in the middle of the market. "I know what I'm good at. Mountaineering? I'm your man. Ice harvesting? Ice was my life before I met Anna. If you need a broken axle fixed, or a strong back, or some tips on reindeer husbandry? Look me up." His pacing stopped, and he fixed Elsa with a firm stare. "But I'm not an idiot. I also know what I _don't_ know."

Unfazed by his intensity, and privately glad to have drawn him out, Elsa returned the stare. "Kristoff, anyone who thinks you're an idiot is only proving themselves to be one."

He blinked. "Thanks. That means a lot to me. Especially from you."

There was nothing resembling sarcasm in his voice, but sometimes it was harder to follow his words than it was to read his intentions. And at the end of the day, despite her training in etiquette and protocol, Elsa had missed out on many years' worth of practical experience in simple conversation that most people took for granted. "Well… You're welcome."

Kristoff must have caught on to her hesitation. "I mean that. I respect you. A lot. What you deal with day in and day out… half the stuff Anna tells me about goes right over my head, and the other half is so far beyond me she might as well be speaking another language. And that's what's frustrating. Like I said, I know what I don't know. These are things I'm going to need to learn."

Elsa nodded. She looked away, fixing an indistinct stare at the backs of the guards surrounding them. "Before you worry yourself too much about that, let me offer you a simpler question to answer first."

"Okay…" he said, a little warily.

She returned her focus to him. "After you're married, what do you _want_ to happen?" For an instant, Kristoff's eyes grew wide. He looked like he was going to choke on his own tongue, and there was an unmistakable hint of red on his cheeks that Elsa chose to ignore as she hastily made to clarify herself. "I'm looking for more than 'we love each other and live happily ever after'. You and Anna will always have a home in Arendelle, but both of you are smart enough to look beyond the roof over your heads. I'm asking what you want in your life, apart from those things. What do you want to do?"

He seemed a little taken aback by the question. "I… don't know. Nobody's really asked me that before."

"I'm sorry," said Elsa. "I should have talked to you about this a long time ago. You talk as though you feel like you have to convert yourself into a nobleman because of what's about to happen. You weren't born into royalty, Kristoff. I don't expect you to miraculously transform into an aristocrat, and I know Anna certainly doesn't want you to turn into something you're uncomfortable with. Don't think for an instant that you have to become something you're not."

He shuffled nervously. "What, then? I am marrying a princess, like you said."

"Yes, and you can make as much or as little of that as you want to," Elsa replied. "Anna might never have thought to ask, if only because she wouldn't have it any other way, but that's what I'm offering you with this question. What do _you_ want to do?"

Kristoff was quiet for a long time, and Elsa left him to his thoughts. It was a simple question, but not an easy one. "I'm marrying a princess," he said at last. "I may never be a prince, but I want to at least be able to act like one, for Anna's sake. I'd never forgive myself if I didn't."

Elsa smiled, more relieved than she could express to find her impression validated. "In that case, I might just be able to help you out."

"Are you sure?" Kristoff chuckled. "It could be a lost cause, and from what I can tell you've got enough no-win scenarios on your plate with all these ambassadors coming in."

"Your confidence is so very reassuring," she said, with a subdued roll of her eyes.

"That's kinda my point. If you think you can turn me into a nobleman, anything else should be easy." He shrugged, then sobered. "All kidding aside, Anna's been worried about you. We both have. I don't like that Frederick guy, and I don't figure the rest of them are going to impress me any more when they get here. What's your plan?"

"I don't know," Elsa admitted. "Ambassador Frederick wasn't what I expected either, to be honest. I can't begin to guess what will happen when the others arrive."

"Look…" Kristoff trailed off, kicking at the cobblestones until he could no longer ignore her patiently expectant look. "Until you can turn me into a smooth-talking politician, you'd better speak up if you don't want me to be blunt," he warned.

"What is it?" she wondered.

He let out a long breath. "Don't wait. To find out, I mean. I'm the last person you should be getting advice from on this, but if you ask me you need to talk to the guy and find out what he's after. I won't pretend to know why you're playing whatever game with these ambassadors that the foreign minister guy has you playing, but all the stalling seems to be doing is tying you in knots."

Elsa considered that, and could not deny that Kristoff had a point. The current tactic of obfuscation and delay bought her time, but to what end? She was under no illusions that her sister's wedding would matter a whit to these men, certainly not as much as it did to her. And if the representatives yet to arrive were even half as canny as Ambassador Frederick, one of them was bound to trip her up. One dinner conversation was all that had been needed to illustrate that fact with painful clarity.

Weeks of agonizing had produced no clever escape route from her predicament, no loopholes for her to slip through. It was looking more and more that she would be forced to make some kind of decision. It would be for the best, in that case, for her to learn as quickly as possible just what choices she would be deciding among.

Her mouth set into a thin line, Elsa walked up to one of the guards, who were standing in a ring facing outwards to survey the crowd. She drew his attention with a tap on the shoulder. "Please return to the castle and inform Minister Henrik that I will be granting Ambassador Frederick an audience upon my return."

The guard nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty," he said, pushing his way into the crowd and moving back toward the castle.

Releasing the breath she didn't know she'd been holding, Elsa turned back to Kristoff. "Well then, we really are late for the tailor's. Let's go."

"Wait," he said, looking at her doubtfully. "You were serious about that?"

"Of course," she replied. "Now, more than ever. If you want to act like a prince, then the first thing to do is help you look the part. I've got a few suggestions…"

They returned to the castle two hours later. There was to be another sizable dent in her dower trust, but it was one that Elsa was more than certain would prove to be an investment even Sebastian could not object to. Having seen the design Anna had settled on for her dress earlier in the day, there was even a bit of a giddy thrill that Elsa could not quite suppress. The knowledge that she was the first person to be aware of what both the bride and groom would look like at the wedding was a great and tantalizing secret.

It was almost sufficient to keep the smile on her face when she saw Minister Henrik pacing just inside the castle gates, waiting for her. Almost.

Once she was in earshot, he wasted no time in getting to the point. "Your Majesty, this is a very bad idea."

After giving Kristoff a parting wave as he continued on into the castle, she turned to Henrik and frowned. "Minister, you don't even know what my idea is yet."

"I don't have to," Henrik said, with the kind of bluntness he reserved for when he felt she was being especially dense. "Granting an audience of any kind to Prince Frederick is a mistake. Whatever your purpose might be when you walk into that room, he is capable of turning it to his own ends. You've spoken to him, Queen Elsa. You have to realize that."

It was the most aggravating tone the man could have chosen, but Elsa refused to rise to the bait. She could guess that he was trying to make her angry so he could use that discomfiture to convince her to abandon the meeting. But more importantly, whatever his deficiencies, Elsa knew that she would need him in the room for the conversation with Frederick, and not in the form of an ice sculpture. "The ambassador is clever, but not so persuasive that he can make me agree to anything official. Words are wind, you told me once. So trust me, at least enough to know when I am and am not signing my own name."

Henrik's jaw set stubbornly. "Wind can do a great deal of damage. I see no possible benefit to this course of action. Perhaps if we invited Queen Seraphim to attend as well, call it a—"

"No," Elsa cut him off. Whatever excuse they could come up with for inviting Seraphim to a private audience, even a political neophyte could see the impression that would give: that Elsa was hiding behind her fellow queen. It would be an irrevocable admission of weakness, almost as damaging to her respectability as it would be to her own self-confidence, which was precarious enough. Henrik was no neophyte, which made the fact that he even offered the suggestion disheartening. "If you really have so little faith in me, minister, we're quite simply doomed. Now unless you plan on locking me in my room and telling the other delegations that I've come down with the plague, you can either get out of my way, or you can help me."

For an instant Henrik looked tempted, and Elsa was worried he would take her up on the plague alternative. But the moment passed, and the foreign minister stepped back. "Very well, Your Majesty. Arendelle's course is yours to steer. Might you at least let me know what hazards in particular you're aiming for?"

"The best way to outsmart a clever opponent is to make your plan as simple as possible," she explained. "I'm taking a lesson from Anna."

"The princess?" Henrik looked at her as though she'd gone mad. "Will we be inviting the ambassador to a meeting on the docks, then?"

"No," said Elsa. "Even better. I'm going to do the absolute last thing that he expects. I'm going to ask him what his offer is."


	10. Chapter Nine: Gambit

**Frozen is the property of Disney.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER NINE<strong>

**Gambit**

Not without reluctance, Minister Henrik assented at last to Elsa's change of tactics. Muttering all the while, he went off to fetch Ambassador Frederick for the private audience, as Elsa made her way up to the council chambers where the meeting would take place.

The third floor appeared to be deserted, silent and shuttered, which suited her well enough. But just as she stepped through the double doors into the council chambers, eager for a few minutes of privacy to settle in and collect her thoughts, a noise back down the hall behind her proved Elsa was not as alone as she had thought.

There was the sound of a door being thrown open, followed by angry footsteps that even the thick carpets could not conceal. Then came a single raised voice. "…stay there sulking, if that's what you want!"

One hand resting lightly on the doorframe, Elsa leaned back outside. All she caught was the glimpse of a crimson dress as it vanished down the spiral staircase at the opposite end of the hallway. _Seraphim?_ she wondered. A brief battle was waged between Elsa's desire for solitude and her curiosity. The latter won out… or perhaps it was just the urge for a distraction outside the space between her own two ears that took the queen back the way she had come.

One of the double doors to the third-floor parlor was standing half-open. Hands clasped in front of her, Elsa peered inside. She recognized Prince Uriel, perched on the edge of the long table behind the chaise longue, his back to the door. It was the same spot he had been in when Elsa had found her sister and their friends waiting for her after the council meeting a few days past. She stepped through the door, recalling the happy atmosphere of that moment, but finding none of it in the here and now as she looked from side to side. This time, there was no one else in the room, with no background conversation or comforting crackle from the fireplace. The hearth was cold and empty, the lamps turned down and the curtains drawn, not even permitting the dim glow of evening to pierce the gloom. The only sound was the occasional rasp of wood as the prince reached down to move a piece on the chessboard.

"It's been what, two minutes?" Uriel said abruptly, without looking up. He reached out to turn the chessboard in place, pausing only briefly to consider before he made a move. "That's a bit too persistent, Seraphim, even for you."

Stopped short in surprise at the bitterness of his voice, Elsa cleared her throat. "It's just me."

The Black Prince jumped, catching the corner of the chessboard as he spun towards her. The pieces scattered across the table with a clatter, several tumbling to the floor as Uriel shot to his feet. "Your Majesty!"

"I'm sorry!" Elsa gasped. She bent down, picking up a few of the pieces as they rolled across the floor near her. In the dimness, only the painted white pieces stood out. The dark chessmen with their stained wood were visible only by the faint sheen of the polished surfaces. "I've ruined your game."

Uriel shrugged her comment away, dropping to a knee to gather more of the scattered figurines. "No need to apologize. I was losing, anyway."

Smiling a bit, Elsa took the handful of chessmen she had gathered and began resetting the board. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"I wasn't aware you were back in the castle, is all. Kai said you'd gone into the city."

"I just had a few stops to make. Even a queen can't escape the occasional shopping trip, it seems." He chuckled at that, and stood to help return the chessmen to their proper places. Elsa watched him out of the corner of her eye. "You must be feeling better," she observed. In fact, it was the firm time she'd seen the prince since he'd left the table early during the dinner with Ambassador Frederick.

"What?" Uriel said. A frown of confusion crossed over his face, but he masked it quickly. "Oh, yes, thank you. Riding always seems to leave me without an appetite."

Elsa was not foolish enough to take that statement at face value, but decided not to pry. She merely nodded with a small hum of agreement, as she nudged the last of the white pawns into place next to his fellows.

Uriel broke the brief silence by clearing his throat. "Do you play, by chance?" he wondered, with a wave at the chessboard.

"A little," Elsa replied. She knew the rules well enough, but had never gotten the knack for playing. For many years, such games had only served as a reminder of how alone she was. Books had made much better company. "I probably wouldn't be much of a challenge."

"You might surprise yourself," Uriel countered. He donned one of his lopsided smiles. "And if not, you underestimate just how abysmal a player I am."

"Is that so?" she said, glancing up to give him a bit of a smirk. "You must have some skill. After all, you were soundly defeating yourself."

"Aren't we all, though?" he asked, an oddly cryptic note in his voice. "That's the beauty of chess, I suppose. No matter how you play, one side comes out a clear victor. Winning is much easier when you know exactly what your opponent is after."

Elsa found herself thinking of how badly outplayed she'd been in her first foray onto the political chessboard of reality, and the second match she was now pursuing, perhaps foolishly. "Is life any different?" she wondered.

"Fewer rules. And the allegiances aren't so conveniently color-coded."

A brief and bitter chuckle escaped her throat. "How true."

"Some of the lessons are worth taking to heart, though," Uriel went on, perhaps sensing the mordant turn of her mood. "No matter how well you play the game."

Elsa's gaze drifted above the prince's right shoulder. "I could use a few of those insights. I'm about to meet with Ambassador Frederick. He should be here at any moment."

"Ah," said the prince, tracking Elsa's stare out into the empty hallway with a sidelong look. "I see."

The seconds stretched into an obvious silence, and Elsa leveled a blue-eyed stare at Uriel, one brow raised. "Is that all the advice you have to offer?"

He returned her look, a little sheepishly. "Apologies, Your Majesty. I felt giving you chess stratagems in the face of your dilemma was somewhat less than you deserve. Quite frankly, I don't know what you intend. I'm afraid I lack my sister's gifts in this arena."

"So do I," Elsa muttered bleakly.

"Don't be so sure," said Uriel. Elsa gave him a doubtful look, but his gaze was insistent. "I mean that. If a few quips were all it took, I'd be the world's finest diplomat. But what's needed is intelligence, resilience, and confidence. If I may be so bold, Your Majesty, the only one of those you seem to lack is the last. And I can't fathom why."

She shook her head. "You were there at dinner. The ambassador was talking circles around me. You had to have noticed."

"I was also there when you were willing to charge into a burning building, alone, to help save a city full of people you didn't know," the Prince of Kristensand pointed out. He reached down, plucking one of the pieces from the chessboard and studying it. "Somehow I doubt the gallant Prince Christian Frederick has anything comparable to his credit."

She sighed, cradling her arms beneath her chest. "It's not the same."

"Isn't it, though?" Uriel stood and turned to leave, talking over his shoulder as he strode slowly towards the door. "No matter how sharp their tongue or how quick their wits, I say you are smarter, stronger, and braver than any person you've stood in a room with, now or ever." He hesitated at the edge of the hallway, though he did not face her. "Dismiss that as flattery if you like. But if you prefer a pithy metaphor to the truth, have this one."

The prince finally turned, and with an underhand throw, tossed the chess piece he was holding back to Elsa. It arched briefly through the air before landing in her cupped hands. Turning it between her fingers, Elsa felt the smoothly sanded edges of white-painted wood. She examined the tiny crown delicately carved into the top, before looking back up at Uriel.

"Be who you are. White moves first, and the queen is the most powerful piece of all."

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><p>...<p>

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><p>The sun was nearly set by the time the meeting began, and Prince Christian Frederick was ushered into the council chambers accompanied by both the foreign minister and the chill of evening. Henrik took in a sharp breath, rubbing his shoulders and making a beeline for the fireplace. He grabbed a poker and knelt to begin coaxing a fire out of the embers in the hearth, while Elsa sat at the head of the table, trying to look far more calm and confident than she felt.<p>

"Your Majesty," Ambassador Frederick said, sweeping into a low bow. The rich red fabric of his tunic stood out vividly in the orange glow of sunset coming through the tall windows. "I'm flattered that you found some time at last in your busy schedule to grant me an audience."

Elsa noted that it was surprisingly easy to ignore the insinuations and words within words when she didn't allow herself to care. She merely looked back at the prince with a neutral expression. For the briefest of moments, she was rewarded by an unsettled look that flashed across his face at her lack of reply.

"Please take a seat, Your Highness," said Henrik. His tone was brusque as he jabbed the poker through the grate of the hearth rather more vigorously than was necessary, muttering about the cold.

"I apologize again for my presumptuousness at our first meeting, Your Majesty," Frederick said guardedly. He took one of the chairs to Elsa's right, conspicuously putting the table between himself and Henrik. "I trust I have given no other offense, seeing as I've hardly left my room for three days."

Turning her head to follow him as he sat down, Elsa said nothing. She did, however, place her left hand atop the table and begin to drum her fingers across it.

Ra-ta-ta-ta. Ra-ta-ta-ta. Through the muted click of her short nails upon the hardwood, Elsa could almost hear the joke the ambassador could have made at such an impatient and unladylike gesture. Ra-ta-ta-ta. Ra-ta-ta-ta. But Frederick was silent, his gaze transfixed, unblinking, upon the steady rhythm of her fingers. That, and the soft pulses of blue light in time with every strike, and the fingertip-sized patches of ice they left behind.

Elsa allowed that to go on for nearly half a minute before stopping. Frederick kept staring at the ice, until the thud of a log being throw into the fire seemed to jar him from the hypnosis. He started, eyes darting back and forth between Elsa and Henrik. "Forgive me, I don't…" Finding nothing from the queen but a blank stare, his gaze settled on the back of Henrik's head. "Minister, happy as I am to be here, what is the purpose of this invitation?"

The foreign minister merely grunted as he tossed another log onto the growing flames. He set the poker aside to rub his hands together before the heat. "Don't look at me. This was Her Majesty's idea."

Frederick's eyes narrowed. She could almost see the gears turning behind them. "Queen Elsa, if I have upset you in some way, please tell me what I can do to make amends." With no other opening to exploit, it seemed he was playing for sympathy. He even looked contrite.

One little spark of magic was all it had taken to make him forget how easily he'd bested her at the welcoming dinner, and see instead what all those letters had been so fearful of. Three days ago, it had required a plunge into the harbor to accomplish a reaction so significant. Elsa might have been impressed, had she not been trying so hard not to feel sick. She sighed. "Your Highness, all you have to do is answer a simple question for me."

"But of course," said the ambassador. His voice was amiable, though his eyes narrowed even further.

She looked at him frankly. "Why are you here?"

One corner of Frederick's mouth tugged upwards. "Oh, well played, Your Majesty," the prince said. "It seems I've underestimated you."

"That isn't an answer," she said bluntly.

"Indeed not. Did you expect things to be that easy?"

With a snap, Elsa's left palm slapped down, hard, upon the tabletop. A burst of icy particles flew out on a gust of frigid wind. She heard the nascent fire sputter briefly in the hearth. "I am through playing games, Ambassador. Don't test my patience."

One eyebrow raised, Frederick brushed at the thin dusting of snowflakes on the front of his tunic. "And here I thought you were the one testing mine," he said wryly. He considered Elsa for a long moment, dark eyes boring into her.

Elsa returned the stare, anger and disgust overwhelming her fear and uncertainty. The ambassador had become the embodiment of all the unwelcome complications in her life, making him far too easy to dislike. Perhaps that was unfair, but Elsa was not feeling at all charitable towards this man, with his sly manner and patent insincerity. "I'm waiting," she said, her low voice little more than a growl.

Frederick smirked, apparently unintimidated. "There is some iron beneath the brittle ice after all, it seems. Very well, Your Majesty, I'll let you take this round." The prince drew himself up, his head taking on a haughty tilt, as if to remind his audience of the petty concession he made by speaking the simple truth. "I have been appointed _stattholder_ by King Frederick VI, sent to Arendelle and charged to secure your cooperation with the Kingdom of Denmark-Norway."

"Cooperation?" Henrik said doubtfully, rising from his crouch by the fireplace to take the nearest seat at the table. "In what way?"

"As _stattholder_ and ambassador, I've been authorized to offer a formal alliance to the Queen of Arendelle," said Frederick. "As your neighbor, a partnership would be both logical and mutually beneficial."

That was only half an answer, and even Elsa knew it. She allowed the foreign minister to do her scoffing, however. That was why she'd needed him here.

"Beneficial, you say?" Henrik snorted. "As I see it, our relations have done well enough to suit our needs. Unless you're implying further cooperation will be contingent upon the formalization of this 'alliance'."

"What my foreign minister means to say is that Arendelle has been quite happy with the profitable trade and neighborly civility shared with our friends in Copenhagen," said Elsa. Whatever the degree her distaste for Frederick might reach on a personal level, the man was an ambassador to her kingdom. It helped ablate her anger that he was finally acting somewhat like one. "We would be more than satisfied to simply move forward with things as they are."

Frederick laughed aloud: a single, brief guffaw that filled the room. "You say that like you actually believe it might happen," he said. "Since I don't want to give offense, I'll say only that I admire your surfeit of optimism, Queen Elsa."

"I'm perfectly serious, Ambassador," she replied. Her voice was stiff, but inside Elsa was positively bristling. "Arendelle wishes only for peace and friendship from our neighbors."

The Danish prince shook his head, black curls bobbing. "You're young, Your Majesty, but not so young that you can still entertain such dreams. Let me be direct—"

"Oh?" Elsa snapped. "I wasn't aware you were capable of such a thing."

Frederick gave a sniff of laughter, but that and a fleeting smirk were his only acknowledgement of her jibe before he continued. "You, and by extension your kingdom, have appeared on the world stage as a very large and very unanticipated wild card. Such things can become either strokes of fortune or obstacles, but they are rarely welcomed, and _never_ ignored."

"Believe me, Ambassador, if I thought I could simply make the world forget I existed, I would never have bothered to allow you off your ship," Elsa said. "But while I'm not that foolish, all that's left is to stress that Arendelle is not interested in participating in the world in any way but through peaceful cooperation."

"I admire your conviction," Frederick replied. "Truly, I do. But do you really expect anyone to be so easily dissuaded? I actually believe you when you say such things, foolish as that makes me feel. But I'm not about to give up yet," he added, smiling broadly.

Elsa supposed he thought the expression might be charming, but the look only turned her stomach. She didn't know which aspect of his persistence made her feel worse: the political or the amorous. "The matter is not up for debate," she insisted. Hopeless as it might be, she had to make him accept at least that fact. "I don't know what you or anyone else thinks I'm capable of. I don't even particularly care," she lied. "I'm not interested in becoming someone else's tool."

"There are only two kinds of people in the world, Your Majesty," Frederick said, undeterred. "Players, and pieces. If you don't make yourself the former, you become the latter by default."

"Allow _me_ to be direct, then, Ambassador. My magic is not and never will be a weapon of war."

Frederick _tsk_ed, shaking his head. "You may find it difficult to persuade anyone else of that, especially now. There are half a million French soldiers who would attest to the effectiveness of a bit of snow against an army, were they still alive to do so."

This was the exact argument that Elsa had been most afraid of. How could a world full of strangers ever see her as anything but a witch and a monster? As despair crept into the corners of her mind, Elsa folded her arms across her stomach. Between her side and the back of her chair, she felt something press against her hand from within the folds of her cloak. As her brow furrowed in momentary confusion, she reached into the pocket, where her fingers brushed across something smooth and cool. It was the chess piece Uriel had tossed her. She didn't even remember keeping it with her when she had left the parlor, but there it was: the white queen.

Her fingers tightened around the painted wood. _No_, she thought. _The Snow Queen._

Elsa returned her gaze to Frederick, her countenance firm. Suddenly she felt calm. "This is a game I refuse to play, Your Highness. Arendelle will not be drawn into the conflicts of our neighbors. If that is your intention with the alliance you offer, I'm afraid my answer can only be no."

To her surprise, Frederick merely shrugged. "Very well."

Elsa was taken aback by his blasé acceptance, but Henrik was openly flabbergasted. "You seem to have taken that news rather well," the foreign minister said.

"Please, give me some credit. If you were to jump at the first offer presented to you, I'd only have been disappointed." He smirked, a devious glint in his eyes that Elsa found only too fitting for the man's personality. "I'll warn you, though. When my counterparts start arriving, you might find yourself longing for simpler days and offers as sweet as mine."

Elsa doubted that very much, but couldn't help but be intrigued by something else the man had said. "So you're aware of the other ambassadors, then?"

"Of course." His grin turned predatory. "I am now. And thank you for confirming that you are, as well."

Elsa blinked. Henrik groaned.

Frederick, for his part, looked quite smug. "That was too easy. But never fear, Your Majesty, your secret is safe with me. Consider it a gesture of friendship… and remember it in the days to come. Friends will be hard to come by in the company you'll soon keep."

"With friends like you, who needs enemies?" Elsa muttered, not meeting his gaze.

He chuckled at that. "You're a fast learner. Honestly, though, I look forward to seeing some new faces. Not that your companionship is in any way objectionable, Your Majesty, but you aren't a terribly good sport."

Elsa scowled. "Do you actually think I'll consider anything you have to say if you keep talking to me like that?"

"Do you actually think you'll get any offers that are better?" he countered glibly.

Minister Henrik snorted at that. "I daresay she will. I'd wager the other nations will come bearing more than smart remarks and vague offers of alliance."

Frederick shrugged eloquently. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Elsa said wearily. The sun had hardly set, she observed with a forlorn glance through the windows, and already another long day was weighing heavily upon her. She was so tired of being tired. For weeks now, the embers of every tiny victory she thought she'd won were being snuffed out long before they could catch into any kind of tangible progress. Every step forward turned into two steps back, with no end in sight.

"It means that you might regret passing over the purse in an open palm when your alternatives are nothing more than golden chains in armored fists," Frederick explained. "Denmark is in no position to coerce you one way or the other, Your Majesty. My good, old, and royal cousin sent me here because the people of Copenhagen would have thought him mad if he didn't at least try and seek your favor. But the fact is he seems all too content in his lot. He holds fast to Napoleon, and whether that's because he's a spiteful old boar nursing a grudge against the English or he actually still believes in the chances of ultimate French victory, it matters little to me."

It was one thing to be flippant, or bold to the point of rudeness, but Elsa was stunned by Frederick's indifference to his station. The man spoke of his king, the man to whom he was heir, with strikingly casual disregard. "But what about your people? Don't you care what happens to them?"

"I will care when it is within my power to do so," he said blithely. "I will be king one day, it's true. Queen Marie has been five years since her last child, and I expect she's stopped trying. Only two daughters out of eight children ever made it beyond the cradle. All I have to do is wait my turn, but for now I have little say in the matter."

Elsa was at last rendered speechless by the callous pragmatism of his outlook. Minister Henrik filled the silence before it stretched. "Are you really so pessimistic about the French? Bonaparte won't give up easily, no matter his setbacks."

"Near 700,000 men marched into Russia last year, and perhaps a tenth that many marched out. That's far more than a 'setback.' The mighty Emperor has vowed to raise a new army just as great, of course." Frederick stood from his chair and strolled around the table. He stopped to warm his hands in front of the fire. "But the weather is turning, and within a month the roads will rumble beneath the tromp of boots as the spring campaigns begin. By all accounts the French army is still less than a third of the way to its lofty goal, and blood is in the water. England and Russia will not pass up this opportunity. Prussia and Sweden have already pledged themselves to a new coalition against France. And Austria will not be far behind." He looked over his shoulder at Elsa. "I expect you'll have a delightful time keeping the parties from each other's throats when they arrive."

"Her Majesty will not look favorably upon squabbles and rabble-rousers at her sister's wedding," said Henrik. "That will be a powerful incentive against such behavior."

"To not be caught and blamed for it, in any case," Frederick acknowledged. "That's the important thing."

For a few moments, there was only the crackle from the hearth to accompany Elsa's thoughts. Hidden beneath the folds of her cloak, her hands were shaking. She could feel the chess piece, gripped so tightly in her left palm that her fingers were going numb. But through all the frustration and despondence and bone-deep fatigue that gripped her, Elsa felt something slowly falling into place in her mind. The pieces were still jumbled, the puzzle incomplete, but before she even realized it she was speaking again. "Just like you."

Frederick turned away from the fire, regarding her with mild confusion at the apparent non sequitur. "I'm sorry?"

"You don't want to be caught, either," she said, her mouth replying almost involuntarily while her mind whirled.

"That would depend upon what I'm being caught for, and who was doing the catching," the prince replied, smirking suggestively.

The innuendo would have been lost on Elsa, even had she been paying attention to it. "I knew you took 'no' for an answer far too well."

"I've already said that was my first offer, hardly my last," he said, shrugging. "And perhaps I'm simply more gracious than you give me credit for."

"It's not that you weren't worried when I rejected your offer, you just didn't care. You weren't even serious." Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "It's your game. Everyone is either a piece or a player, you said."

"So I did." He looked away, turning towards the fire, hands now clasped at the small of his back. "What of it?"

"You certainly don't see yourself as one of the pieces. Not the way you talk about your king, and your country." She nearly had it. It was all right in front of her. What was she missing? What was the last clue?

And suddenly, a new voice came to her. _Winning is much easier when you know exactly what your opponent is after_, Uriel had said. He'd been referring to chess, but Elsa almost gasped aloud as the picture became clear.

"_Stattholder_," she breathed. From the corner of her eye, Elsa could see Minister Henrik regarding her blankly, but she paid him no mind. She was staring at Frederick, who had suddenly gone very, very still. "Under Danish law, the _stattholder_ is the king's highest appointed representative. You're not just a simple ambassador. You've been granted the crown's full authority by proxy, empowered to speak with the king's voice."

People were unfamiliar. People were unpredictable. People were confusing. But laws? Laws Elsa knew as well as anything could be known. She'd studied and memorized them for as long as she could remember, relishing the structures, the absolutes, and above all the simple _knowing_ of a thing. She'd never before considered that when people worked within the laws, even the most devious schemer was bound by a system she understood.

And in that light at least, Christian Frederick, Hereditary Prince of Denmark-Norway, no longer frightened her.

"The king wouldn't send someone with that kind of authority just to make bland proposals and pester me with small talk," Elsa said, voice clear and firm. Inside her pockets, still gripping the white queen, her hands were shaking once more, but not out of fear or frustration. She was confident, as confident as she'd been about anything for a very long time, and shaking with anticipation, nervous energy and adrenaline surging through her veins. "But you're stalling. You didn't give me the king's real offer. Why?"

Frederick was silent for a long moment. And when he spoke, there was nothing playful left in his voice. "No one wants to be the first man to raise his hand at an auction." He turned to look at her. His mouth was a thin line, his dark eyes hard as they appraised her like only so much meat. "And only a fool opens with his highest bid."

"You suspected there were more ambassadors coming, but you didn't know for certain until this meeting," Minister Henrik realized. "Of course you didn't want to show your hand before you knew what kind of competition you'd be facing."

"Obviously," Frederick said. The smile he offered the foreign minister was no longer just a part of the man's charming mask. It was edged with a coldness that even Elsa's magic could not match, like staring into the face of a snake. Even in stillness, the poison was there. Hidden, but perilously close, just one furious burst of motion away.

Elsa wondered if his smile had always looked like that, or if now she simply saw it for what it was.

"Denmark is bound to Napoleon, if only because our foes would profit more from our defeat than our friendship at this point," Frederick explained. "The German Confederation will remain loyal as well, at least until the guns pointed at their faces become more intimidating than those aimed at their backs. The outlook for France and her allies is bleak, but our foes' victory is far from a sure thing."

"And so you come to Arendelle," Henrik said darkly. "Looking to tip the scales."

"Just so. The world is a bizarre place. So full of the unexpected, don't you think?" Frederick seemed to regard his own question as rhetorical, stepping back from the fireplace and ambling to the far corner of the room, where there was a small stand holding a collection of flasks. There was a silvery chime of glass as he removed one of the stoppers and sampled the aroma. With an indifferent shrug, he poured himself a drink. "Wars have been won under stranger circumstances." He sent Elsa a sidelong glance as he took a sip. "Though not many."

"And what do you have to offer Her Majesty for our kingdom's cooperation, then?" Henrik asked. The foreign minister sent Elsa a glance, stifling her objection before she could voice it with a single, wordless look. "I trust you realize how invested she is in Arendelle's impartiality."

Frederick swirled the amber liquid in his glass, glancing back and forth between the queen and her minister. He addressed his response to Henrik. "Fair enough. We propose a federation between our kingdoms. Denmark, Norway, and Arendelle will be united under a single banner. Despite the relative size of our territories, in exchange for your open declaration of alliance we're willing to grant you an equal voice in deciding matters that affect our combined kingdoms."

"Who is this 'we'?" Elsa wondered.

"At the moment, it would be King Frederick and yourself. Of course, to prevent stalemates at the highest level, the plan is to return Norway to its sovereign standing." There was an odd light in the ambassador's eyes that Elsa did not fail to note. "Three monarchs would direct the federation as a triumvirate, with a majority rule on overarching decisions."

"An ambitious and complicated proposal," Minister Henrik said quickly, glancing at Elsa. "You'll understand if Her Majesty would like to consider the matter before providing you with any kind of judgment."

The queen frowned at her minister's hasty response. Was Henrik really so worried that she would leap into an arrangement like that without thinking?

"Of course," Frederick said genially. "If nothing else, the details would have to be worked out during negotiations. Should you accept," he added. The phrase was offered as an afterthought, but his smile said otherwise.

Elsa looked at Henrik, who was collecting himself to leave, as though the matter were settled and the purpose of the audience fulfilled. Perhaps he was planning to leave well enough alone and retreat before any damage could be done, but the queen had other plans. She cleared her throat pointedly. "I'm curious, Ambassador. What kind of authority would the majority of this council of three monarchs be able to exert?"

"There is no concrete framework at the moment," Frederick replied. He took another sip of his drink, which failed to completely hide his smile. "I'm sure your opinions would carry a great deal of weight in the establishment of this federation, just as they would in ruling it."

Elsa nodded, fixing her calm countenance in stone. Her next move was not one she had a great deal of practice with, but it was obviously a gambit that she would have to make part of her arsenal if she meant to represent Arendelle on the world stage. _You were right, Uriel. Even chess has lessons we must take to heart in life._ She weighed her words carefully. "Yes. I'm sure a great deal of good could be accomplished in all of our kingdoms under such an arrangement."

"Your Majesty—" Henrik began, but it was Elsa's turn to silence the councilor with a look. His mouth snapped shut, his cheeks growing flushed around the edges of his goatee.

"Indeed, Queen Elsa," Frederick said. His smile was growing wider. Perhaps that was because of her apparent interest, or perhaps it was Henrik's obvious consternation. Most likely it was both. "You will be in a position to better the lives of millions of people. To do good on a scale far beyond the borders of your own humble kingdom."

Elsa's heart wilted a bit more with the man's every word, but her face was frozen in place. _In politics, is this what it means to be brave?_ "Yes. And I'm sure there are many things both Arendelle and I could learn and benefit from, as well."

"Without a doubt," said Frederick. He was all but salivating. "You see the potential, Your Majesty. Surely you realize that you won't find a better offer. So why delay? We can begin negotiations—"

"As soon as you tell me who you've picked for the crown of Norway," Elsa interrupted. Try as she might, her mask slipped. The statement came out not as a smooth interjection, but instead a harsh, accusatory bark. She couldn't help herself. It hurt with an almost physical force to find that her hunch had been correct. Elsa had no fondness for this man, nor any reason to believe he was any kind of a friend. All the same, no one wanted to discover that the world believed they were stupid.

It would have been better if she were "just" a monster to them.

"What do you mean?" asked Frederick, once more playing the innocent.

"As you so obviously hope, the authority of this proposed triumvirate would hold a great deal of influence over all three kingdoms. Once Norway is granted sovereignty, any two of the three monarchs would be able to collude and enforce their will upon the third." Unable to help herself at the bitter taste in her mouth, Elsa felt her face twisting into a scowl. "This federation would be nothing more than an excuse to control Arendelle beneath a guise of equal representation. Did you really think I was too simple to figure that out?"

For the first time, there was a flicker of something almost like respect in Prince Frederick's eyes. Elsa found it to be his most distasteful expression of all. "Such a suspicious nature is unbecoming a woman as beautiful as you, Your Majesty."

Elsa rose from her chair, both hands planted on the tabletop. It took every shred of her self-control to stand slowly, deliberately, but even as she struggled against her anger, Elsa could feel the wood beginning to freeze beneath her palms. "My answer is no."

"Don't be so hasty. After all, the sword you spotted cuts both ways." Frederick took another sip of his drink, still perfectly casual. "Why not grasp the hilt instead of tossing it aside?"

"And how would I…?" Elsa trailed off. The answer had come to her almost as quickly as the question. She blinked. "It's you, isn't it? You'll become the King of Norway."

"It seems I've been giving you far too little credit," the prince said, an unsettling glint in his eyes. "King Frederick is actually not aware of it – yet – but I've already been in contact with members of the Norwegian Assembly. They sought me out hoping for my cooperation in a play for independence, but I'm confident I can convince them of the allure of this alternative. You see, Your Majesty, you need not find yourself as the pawn in this particular arrangement."

Elsa wasn't so sure about that. "And why should I trust you to hold up your end in a bargain like that?"

Christian Frederick smirked at her, like a cat that found the cream. "Isn't it obvious?"

Elsa sank back into her chair. It _was_ obvious, and only made the taste of the offer sour enough to make her gag. "Marriage."

"Don't make it sound so unappealing," Frederick said, nearly laughing. "You might not find me unpleasant company, especially as an ally." For a moment, his head tilted quizzically. "Or perhaps it's that you have… different tastes? That _would_ explain a great deal. Well, we needn't keep each other's company beyond propriety, since I have a son already. My first wife gave me that much, at least, before she began favoring the companionship of her singing instructor over my own and forced me to divorce her."

Elsa was too dazed to keep up with his flurry of assertions, let alone argue. She hardly would have known where to begin. "Enough. I'm not prepared to agree to anything." She glowered up at Frederick, desperately wishing for him to leave; for this day, this nightmare, to be over. "And the more you talk, the more all I want to say is no."

He laughed openly at that. "I'll try to be more concise in future."

"I believe we're done here, then," Minister Henrik offered feebly, looking back and forth between the Danish prince and his queen. Without waiting for a dismissal, he marched towards the double doors and out of the room, shaking his head and muttering under his breath.

"For now, perhaps," Frederick said, ambling confidently towards the exit after the minister, glass still in hand. "But don't take too long, Your Majesty. Little though you may like it, you have it in yourself to shift the balance in the coming conflict. Decisively so. And few men of power are as patient and understanding as I am."

Elsa did not acknowledge the ambassador any further as he closed the door behind him. She had barely even registered the immodest half-threats of his parting words. At that moment, her world amounted to no more than a single thought, thundering through her mind over and over again, drowning out even the pounding of her head: _What if he's right? What if this is the best offer I get?_

Slowly, weakly, Elsa's head drifted down until it rested atop her arms, folded across the table in front of her. She was still there when the fire in the hearth burned itself to embers, allowing a chill to seep back into the room, deepening with the fall of night. Though the cold could not touch Queen Elsa of Arendelle, neither did it do anything to soothe her fears. Nor did it stop the silent sobs that left tears upon the polished tabletop, hidden behind shaking arms and beneath long strands of braided hair, shining silver in the moonlight.


	11. Chapter Ten: Rough Waters

**Frozen is the property of Disney.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER TEN<br>**

**Rough Waters  
><strong>

Elsa was awakened early the next day by the rattle of her windows. A spring squall had risen in the night, and along with intermittent bouts of drizzling rain, a fierce westerly wind was buffeting Arendelle. The noisy howl had done nothing to improve the queen's already fitful sleep, and being loud enough to wake her was not the same as helping make her wakeful once she was up.

It took Elsa half again as long as usual to make herself presentable, and there was little to be done about the dark circles under her eyes. Thankfully there were no meetings or appointments to be kept, and the only people who might see her for the next few hours would be the castle staff. Even that contact would be limited, as Elsa had no intentions of venturing beyond the confines of her personal chambers. There was enough to do there that she could almost convince herself that she wasn't hiding.

"Are you sure you don't want a spot of breakfast, Your Majesty?" Gerda asked.

"I'm certain," Elsa replied, taking a seat behind her desk and trying to make sense of the piles of papers that seemed to have been multiplying upon it. How had she allowed it to get so disorganized? "I've lost too much time this morning as it is," she lamented, seeing the sun already well-risen through the windows of her study.

The elderly chambermaid was looking at her with concern as she poured tea from the service that had claimed the one relatively clear corner of the queen's desk. "You mustn't think that way. The days are growing longer, is all," she pointed out optimistically. "There's no need to try and beat the sun to the morning, my lady. It's a battle you won't win; it's had a lot more practice at early rising than any of us."

Gerda's efforts at good humor, combined with the smell of good strong tea, were almost enough to chisel away the frown on Elsa's face. "I'll keep that in mind," she said. "But right now I have to make heads or tails of this mess." She'd pushed back the villainous legions of paperwork to have room enough for her tea, but the rest of the campaign was promising to claim most of what remained of her morning.

Both Elsa and Gerda looked up in surprise at the sound of the door opening without a knock. Few people were bold enough to enter the queen's private study without announcing themselves. And Anna would have been heard coming half a hallway away.

From Elsa's perspective behind the desk, that made the sight of a levitating breakfast tray both unexpected and reassuring. The cloud drifting above it and the bright, tuneless humming that reached her ears were all the explanation that was necessary.

"Olaf!" Gerda said sternly. "How many times have I told you? It's impolite to enter a room without knocking. Especially a lady's!" Hands on her hips, the older woman was fixing a firm glare downwards. For all Elsa could see, she was addressing the breakfast tray; the snowman himself was still hidden below the plane of her desk. That thought finally did draw a quiet smile to the queen's face.

"But how can I knock with my hands full?" Olaf replied. With a labored grunt, he hefted the silver tray held above his head, trying to slide it onto Elsa's desk. It dislodged more than a few papers and almost knocked over an inkwell as the snowman tried to force open a space amongst all the clutter. When he'd finally pushed it far enough not to immediately topple back off, a rounded white head popped into view, held up by a pair of twig arms to see above the edge of the desk. "Hello, Elsa! I brought you breakfast!"

"Is that what you call this?" Gerda scoffed, eyeing the tray suspiciously.

"What else would I call it?" Olaf wondered. "Man, that thing was heavy! I dropped it twice on the way up here. But most of it's still there. I think."

That explained the rather haphazard and disheveled arrangement before Elsa. A stick of butter was flattened beneath its platter, next to a pot of fruit preserves, lidless and leaking, that was rolling back and forth between the butter and the lip of the tray. A glass of orange juice was standing, but less than a quarter full, and an orange puddle was slowly dripping through the handhold onto the floor. An upended bowl might have once held fruit, judging by the stem that stuck out beneath, and the single lonely grape still clinging to it. A plate of toast was almost intact, but the light white dusting that covered it – and the rest of the tray, for that matter – was not powdered sugar, but snow from Olaf's cloud.

"Oh, really…" Gerda heaved a long-suffering sigh. She shook her head, giving Elsa an apologetic look. "Excuse me, Your Majesty. I'd better go clean up the mess." She shuffled out of the study, tut-tutting along the way at the line of wet spots where Olaf had trailed orange juice into the room.

_At least it'll be easy to retrace his steps_, Elsa thought. She found herself incapable of being angry with the snowman, despite this enhancement to the mess that was slowly spreading across her workspace.

"I wasn't sure what you liked," Olaf explained, waddling around the side of the desk. He hopped into the low viewing seat in the windowsill behind Elsa. His arms were playing with his snowball feet, and he glanced furtively up at her in what almost looked like nervousness. "So I asked them for a little bit of everything. They didn't have any bacon, though. Anna thought that was very strange at breakfast time. I agree, and I don't even eat! It's the smell, I think. Something about it just says breakfast to me."

"Olaf," Elsa said, covering her mouth with a hand to hide a laugh. "Did my sister put you up to this?"

The snowman shook his head. "Nope!" he declared, smiling proudly. "But she asked what I was doing when she saw me in the kitchens, and decided to help. Then Kristoff was there, too, but he just said it looked like I had things under control, so they left. I'm not sure why he was smiling, but he's done that a lot more than usual the last couple days. I like it!"

While listening with half an ear to the snowman's bubbly rambling, Elsa was trying to shuffle the most important contents of her desk out of harm's way as she mopped up the orange juice with the napkin from her tea service. The one on the breakfast tray, of course, had already soaked through. She shook her head, smiling ruefully. "Well, I do appreciate it," she said. "Though next time, it's okay to ask one of the staff to help you carry things."

"Say, that's a good idea!" Olaf exclaimed. "I wish I'd thought of that. I'll go ask Gerda, I bet she'd do it."

"I'm sure she would," Elsa agreed. "Especially if you help her clean up the places where you dropped the tray."

"Yeah." Olaf scratched the side of his head. "I'd better apologize for that. And show her where I swept the other jar of jam under a rug after it broke. It's okay, though. It was just apricot. Blech!" He hopped down from the windowsill, already jogging towards the door when he landed. "Bye, Elsa. Eat up; breakfast is the most important meal of the day!"

Elsa watched him go, shaking her head with amusement. She wasn't about to partake of any of the soggy offerings on the tray, but it had been a nice gesture all the same. And if nothing else, she felt better for that one brief moment than she had in quite some time.

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><p>...<p>

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><p>For two days the wind howled incessantly through the fjord. The stiff westerlies carried the hint of spring, bearing in the tang of salt and faint, earthy hint of new growth, and carrying away the dead leaves and other detritus that had accumulated during the winter months. Even the deepest corners of the side streets and alleys of Arendelle were swept clean, and more than a few newspapers, umbrellas, hats, and a fair share of roof shingles were swept up along with them.<p>

The captains mulling about the docks counted their blessings or cursed their luck, depending on which direction they meant to sail. The harbor was growing busier as the temperatures rose and the seas grew clearer, but of the other embassies to Arendelle there was no sign. With no interest in seeing Ambassador Frederick, Elsa was left to wait, and forced to find other things to pass the time.

A week before the wedding, the queen found herself overseeing the preparation of the castle's grand ballroom. The cleaning was done, though the decorating still remained in progress. But while she'd never admit it aloud, Elsa didn't know why she was there. It wasn't as though the staff couldn't be trusted to do things properly; they'd handled the coronation without her hovering about. She had conquered the unsightly disarray of her study, and prepared more than thirty letters for Minister Henrik to dispatch, assuring Arendelle's neighbors of her peaceful intentions. She didn't know if they would do any good, but something had driven her to write them all the same.

Left with nothing else that required her immediate attention, Elsa found herself in the midst of two dozen uniformed staff as they redressed curtains, hung ribbons, swapped tapestries, and changed furnishings. She was trying to be both helpful and unobtrusive at the same time, and if she were totally honest, knew she was accomplishing neither.

"Are you sure you don't need help with that?" she asked as two men walked past bearing a ladder in their arms, with bundles of long silk streamers over their shoulders.

"We're fine, thank you, Your Majesty," one of them said. He sounded like he was trying not to be annoyed, and Elsa couldn't blame him. Crossing her arms beneath her chest, she shuffled out of their way, feeling wretchedly adrift and useless.

A shout of "Elsa!" rang out. A voice high and bright cut clean through the muted clamor of the work being done. "What are you doing here?"

The queen watched as her sister bounded across the ballroom towards her. Anna wove through the controlled chaos much like the wind that howled outside, seeming to aim for every obstacle and just missing each one. "Careful, Anna!" she called back. "I don't want to be the one to explain to Kristoff how you'll be walking down the aisle with a black eye because you ran into a ladder."

"Don't be silly," Anna replied breathlessly, sneaking between two maids bearing tall planters full of flowers to finally reach her sister's side. She paused to catch her breath, chest heaving beneath her forest-green bodice as she bent to smooth out the ruffles in her plain coal-grey skirt. She'd taken a liking to the darker colors after Kristoff had given her a beautiful, hand-stitched black shawl for Christmas, and Elsa had to admit that they wore surprisingly well with her sister's fair skin and freckles. "See? All the way across the room, and still in one piece."

"Just be sure to stay that way," Elsa chided, smiling hesitantly.

"You didn't answer my question," Anna said, fixing Elsa with a stare through her eyelashes. The younger girl was slowly narrowing the gap in their heights, which Elsa had not failed to notice, but she still had to look up to her big sister. "What're you doing?"

Movement from the corner of her eye drew her attention, and Elsa took a step forward to make way for a half-dozen men bearing an impressively large table through one of the side doors. "Getting in the way, it seems."

"I told you I'd check on the ballroom, to make sure everything was ready for the rehearsal dinner tonight," Anna said, an odd note in her voice.

Elsa blinked. She'd honestly forgotten until that moment. She tried to give her sister a comforting smile. "It's all right. I just wanted to see how everything was coming along."

"You don't have to do everything yourself," said Anna, her voice soft. "And you can trust me. You know that, right?"

"Of course I trust you," Elsa assured her. She found herself looking at the floor, unable to bear the hurt in her sister's eyes, knowing she'd caused it with her own absentmindedness.

"Are you okay?" Anna asked gently. "I missed you at breakfast. And dinner last night." A note of consternation crept into her voice. "Wait a second. I've barely seen you for two days. How did I just now notice that?"

"No, no, it's not your fault. I was busy, that's all," Elsa said quickly. All she'd wanted to do was soothe Anna's worries, but for some reason she kept talking. "I met with Ambassador Frederick. It… didn't go well."

"Kristoff mentioned it. Hold on," Anna's cheeks grew flushed with anger. "Did that sleazy creep of a prince upset you? I swear I'm gonna go throw him in the ocean again, if he's why you're drifting around the castle like some hollow-eyed ghost." She blinked. "Not that you look that bad. I mean, you're pulling off the whole 'Sleep? Who needs it!' look really well, and you're a bit pale…er than usual. That is… Uh… I'm going to shut up now." She buried her face in her hands, peeking at Elsa between her fingers. "I'm a terrible person, aren't I?"

Elsa gave her a reassuring smile. "Not even close. And everything's fine. I just… needed something to do to get my mind off of things."

Anna brightened immediately, like the sun bursting from behind a cloud. "Come on, then!" She leaned in, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, eyes darting to the two pairs of uniformed men shadowing them. "Sera and I were gonna take a walk on the battlements, and I know a way out where we can ditch the guards. C'mon, it'll be fun!" And without waiting for a reply, she grabbed Elsa by both hands and began dragging her towards the exit.

With no counterargument springing to mind, Elsa allowed herself to be led, secretly a bit happy for the chance to spend some time with Anna. The sisters made their way up the spiral staircase to the second floor, Anna bounding up the steps two at a time, with Elsa hurrying to keep pace without completely casting aside decorum.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think the two of you were up to no good," a new voice purred when they reached the landing of the second floor. Seraphim strode out of the hallway, glancing surreptitiously about as though checking to see if they were being followed. The Queen of Kristensand was wearing a new outfit of her own: a long-sleeved white shirt beneath a laced corset. The bodice and unadorned skirt were dyed a shade of red light enough that it looked more like pink beneath her long auburn hair, which had been tied into a simple ponytail.

Elsa, who was wearing one of her silver velvet tops beneath a cobalt-blue dress, felt almost overdressed by comparison. That made sense, as the two younger girls had obviously been conspiring about this outdoors excursion she'd been caught up in. "I'd say no good is exactly what we're up to," Elsa decided, unable to hide a smile. "Especially with you two involved."

Seraphim preened as though she'd just been given the highest of compliments, tucking a stray strand of hair behind an ear. "Why, thank you."

"Come on, follow me," said Anna. "Let's go before the guards decide they need to start following us around on the second floor, too."

The hallway of the residential level was empty, but still they went on tiptoes across the carpets. Though Elsa was perhaps a bit less theatrical about it, she nonetheless enjoyed how much fun the other two seemed to be having with their adventure. Anna led the three of them to the far end of the hall, stopping at a small, unassuming single door. Glancing back and forth one last time to verify the coast was clear, she opened the door, revealing the room beyond with a muffled creak of disused hinges.

What had once been a tiny servant's quarters, from the not-so-distant past when the royal family had employed personal butlers and lady's maids, was now apparently used for storage. Stacks of old furniture were piled against the walls and draped with dust-covered sheets, leaving a path that was barely large enough for any of the three to sidle through. Anna huffed as she led them inside, wending her way through the narrow passage before stretching to reach a second door in the back of the room. She pulled it open, leveraging herself through the opening by pulling on the doorknob. "Ugh! This wasn't so hard when I found it last year. I gotta lay off the chocolate."

Elsa stifled a giggle. Her sister's sweet tooth was most likely not to blame for the parts of her dresses the nineteen-year-old princess had been filling out, but the queen wasn't about to try and convince her of that just this second.

The back door opened onto a tiny landing, revealing a cramped and rickety spiral stair that led both upwards and down. It was packed so tightly against the bare stone of one of the castle's outer walls that it hardly permitted even one person through at a time. "It looks like a secret passage," Seraphim said, her voice no higher than a whisper.

"I think it was more like a fire escape," said Anna, making her way up the steps. Bold as she was, she kept both hands on the thin wooden boards that served as railing, mindful of how the old wood creaked with every step. From just a few feet away, Elsa could only just see her. There was almost no light in the passage, with only a few razor-thin arrow slits fit into the rounded stone walls that admitted narrow shafts of sunlight. "Or maybe it's a service entrance. It goes down into the storage cellars off the kitchens, and leads all the way up into one of the turrets."

"Is this a good time to mention that I'm just a _little_ afraid of heights?" Seraphim wondered, with a mixture of embarrassment and trepidation.

"Don't worry, we don't have to go all the way up. The door is right… about… here!" With a grunt of effort and a burst of light that was almost blinding, Anna threw open another door and stepped outside. Seraphim followed, with Elsa just behind her.

They stood at a junction between the castle proper and the outer wall that surrounded the courtyard. Though open to the air, they were beneath the wooden awning the sheltered the battlements along the whole circumference of the curtain wall. Even here on the western side, somewhat shielded by the castle itself, the space was filled with the noise of the wind. It whistled shrilly between the crenellations that were set at regular intervals, as well as through the smaller portals in the roof above. The space beneath the roof had been designed with narrow walkways to allow two levels of archers and crossbowmen to defend the castle, though the ladders that granted access to the upper works had been removed long ago.

The door they'd exited through had no handle on the outside, and was made of thick wood reinforced with bands and studs of old, rusted iron. There was a rumble of stone on stone, as Anna used a foot to push a loose brick into place and prop open the door. Even so secured, it rattled in the stiff breeze that cut across the top of the wall.

"You're sure nobody comes up here?" Seraphim asked.

"Not that I've seen," said Anna. "We just need to stay out of the barracks. That's the big drum tower there." She pointed to the single largest tower, set at the corner of the castle closest to the open ocean.

"The guards don't patrol the battlements themselves, they just keep watch from the towers," Elsa explained. "This whole side of the castle is a part of the city's seawall. They hire a mason to inspect it every three months, but they just did that in February." Anna and Seraphim turned around in unison, looking at her oddly, and Elsa felt herself flush. "What? I've seen the bills."

Anna glanced at Seraphim. "I told you."

"Yep, you were right. She does need to get out more."

"I'm right here, you know," Elsa muttered, cursing the heat she felt growing in her cheeks.

With one quick step, Anna had her arm around her sister's shoulders. "Yes. Yes you are." She smiled mischievously. "And that's a good thing, because I was worried we'd have to conscript Uriel to drag you out here."

The fire in Elsa's cheeks became positively radiant, and the thing that baffled Elsa most of all was why their teasing was so effective. "W-what?"

Her sister and Seraphim shared another look, before they burst out laughing. "I just meant that I didn't think either of us could carry you up those stairs," Anna gasped. She was laughing so hard that she had to use the arm across Elsa's shoulders to keep herself upright. "You don't have to look so uncomfortable."

Elsa's fists were clenched at her sides, and her body was positively vibrating with embarrassment as she glared at her sister.

Seraphim patted her other shoulder comfortingly, a gesture whose effectiveness was limited by her own efforts to stop snickering. "Let me just say, with all due respect, that you are indescribably adorable when you're embarrassed."

"All the time, really," Anna chortled, eyes watering. "But _especially_ then. I mean now."

In Elsa's subconscious, the border between discomfiture and shame was razor-thin. Had it been anyone else teasing her, the line would have been crossed long ago. As it stood, she was simply growing more incensed at herself for being unable to master her reactions. "I don't see what's so funny," she grumbled, her mouth twisted into a frown, eyes fixed on the rough stone of the walkway.

Anna looked up, and something in her sister's face quickly subdued her mirth. "Hey, hey. It's okay."

That was when Elsa felt a new heat on her cheeks, in a thin line trailing down towards her chin. Almost angrily, she swatted at the sudden, inexplicable tears.

Seraphim had sobered just as quickly. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she snapped. Gently, though not as much so as she'd have liked, she shook off Anna's arm and stepped forward, the better to hide her face. "I… I just…" Confusion ruled her thoughts. Elsa sighed, shoulders hunching forward as she hugged her arms across her stomach. "I don't know."

Anna stepped back into view, wringing her hands and nervously biting at her bottom lip. She reached out and took Elsa by her arms before her sister could turn away. "I'm sorry. We didn't mean anything by it."

Rationally, Elsa knew that. Her sister probably hadn't had a malicious thought in her life. Anna and Seraphim often made a game of gently teasing Elsa when they were all together. It had typically been fun for all three of them, because she'd always played such an excellent straight lace compared to the two younger girls. Something in the dynamic had simply misfired this time, Elsa thought. Whether it was stress, or the unexpected nature of this little adventure, or a comment that had struck some half-hidden nerve, she didn't know. To her, the uncertainty was the worst part.

There was another possibility, one that Elsa did not consider. Years earlier, a single misguided overreaction, however well-intentioned, had been enforced on a traumatized young girl. It had persisted for so long that it skewed Elsa's instinctive response to conflict, and did so in ways she couldn't understand, let alone correct. It was one thing to know that she had a sister who loved her and friends who enjoyed her company. It was another matter entirely to _remember_ that, and to overcome years of conscious, habitual isolation. In spite of how alone Elsa felt in dealing with her troubles, there were in fact people out there who cared about her. She had simply been reminded of that fact.

After all, those who love us sometimes tell us so in the strangest ways.

Worried by Elsa's distress, both the others had abandoned all thoughts of teasing. Seraphim was eyeing her with open concern. "The meeting with the ambassador didn't go so well, did it?"

Elsa looked up at the younger queen in surprise.

"I'm right, aren't I?" she went on. "Uri told me you were meeting with him, and you've pretty much locked yourself in your study ever since."

"I've already promised to treat him to another swim," Anna confided. "This just settles it."

"That won't help," Elsa said despondently.

"Of course it will!" Anna declared. "It'll make you feel better."

Elsa shook her head. Small, sharp jerks at first, then her eyes screwed shut and she felt her head twisting like a dog shaking a toy in its jaws. Then the words came spilling out, and she was no longer talking just about Frederick. "No, it won't. I wanted to stall them, to think of a better plan, but there's nothing. All I can do is hear their offers, and find out who's willing to bid the most for me. I'm standing in front of the world like chattel being sold at auction." That particular metaphor in the meeting with Frederick had haunted her, and Elsa could still vividly recall the way he'd looked at her. To be feared was bad enough. To be objectified at the same time, made into something both terrifying and somehow less than human, was even worse. "It's all such a mess."

"Elsa, why didn't you say something?" asked Anna. Her voice was barely a whisper, so soft it was nearly lost in the wind. "I knew things were tough, but I had no idea it was this bad."

"I didn't want to bother you with it," Elsa insisted, swiping at the fresh tears on her cheeks. "You have enough to worry about."

"So do you," Anna countered. "I've got no one to blame but myself when it comes to the wedding, and there's nothing stopping me if I want to tone things down. But you're the queen, _and_ you're helping me with the wedding, _and _you're trying to stand up to a bunch of foreign jerks who're showing up here uninvited. Why in the world are you trying to do it alone?"

_To protect you_, Elsa thought. To keep the words inside, she forced her jaw shut so tightly that it ached. _To keep you safe from what my powers have brought down upon Arendelle._

"Don't do this again, Elsa. Please," Anna said plaintively. "Don't shut me out. Let me help."

"I'm not," said Elsa, feeling her resolve crumble at the desperation in her sister's voice. "I mean I will. I just…" Her mind cast about for an explanation that made sense. "How can I ask for your help when I don't even know what to do?"

"I don't know," Anna admitted reluctantly. "Just please… please… promise me you'll let me help. That you're not going to keep me at arm's length, like some little kid that's in the way. Even if all I can do is listen, let me do that. Promise me."

Elsa was hugging herself so tightly that her knuckles had gone white. She forced herself to relax, and to look her sister in the eye. "I promise."

Anna nodded, her eyes glittering with relief. "Okay. I'm gonna hold you to that. Now c'mon," she said, gently linking an arm through her sister's and guiding her down the path. "It's such a nice day, let's go enjoy it."

Elsa nodded mutely and allowed herself, once again, to be led. The three girls went quietly, their footsteps swept away by the brisk wind keening through the battlements. The gusts off the ocean rose and fell as steadily as the rhythm of waves, dipping down to soft whispers before rising back into roars that left the two younger girls' cheeks flushed and ears tingling, despite the relative warmth.

The western face of the castle's outer wall looked out upon the deep, sheltered cove set between the city of Arendelle and the tall mountains that bordered the kingdom. A spur of formidable cliffs jutted out into the water, shielding their view of the western pass and the kingdom of Kristensand beyond. A small angle in the curtain wall near the barracks gave the battlements a more southerly face, and it was to that point that Anna led them, insisting that this spot held the clearest and most breathtaking view of the ocean in the entire castle. Once they looked out across the windswept waves, Elsa was in no position to disagree. Even squinting against the wind that assailed them, the sight was a breathtaking array of crystal-blue waters topped by whitecaps, vanishing into the horizon beneath a racecourse of tiny, sprinting clouds.

"Someday, I'm gonna see what's out there," Anna said breathlessly. Propping herself up between two crenellations with both arms, she leaned out to feel the wind on her face. Her twin braids were caught like a pair of red weathervanes, dancing in the breeze.

Before she could help herself, Elsa found a map taking shape in her head. She knew Arendelle's location, and it was a simple matter to get her bearings and know they were facing roughly south by southwest. Her mouth opened, with a description of what countries lay in that direction and how far away each of them was on the tip of her tongue. But something made her stop. Anna was referring to more than lines and names on a map. "Is that what you want?" she asked instead.

Anna's eyes opened, and she lowered herself back to the ground, fixing Elsa with a questioning look. "Huh?"

"To travel. To see the world," Elsa said, studying her hands. "Would you like that?"

"Well… yeah," said Anna. "Not right this minute!" she added hastily, "but someday."

Elsa nodded. "Okay."

Anna's brows bunched together in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I've been wondering what to get you for a wedding present," Elsa admitted. "So, how far would you like to go?" She tried to smile, to show Anna how happy she was, but the expression faltered. She couldn't even meet her sister's eyes.

To her surprise, Anna's response was not the squealing delight she had expected. Instead, she took Elsa by the shoulders, one hand guiding her head up gently by the chin until their gazes met. Two pairs of blue eyes, so alike in hue and yet so different in temperament, looked between each other. "Stop that."

Elsa blinked. "What?"

"Stop thinking that I want to go away," Anna said. "Sure, I want to see what's out there. But not if it means leaving you behind. I've had years to learn that this world is a pretty boring place without you in it. I'm not going anywhere without my sister."

Elsa tried to look away, but Anna still had her by the chin. The best she could do was put the other girl in the edges of her peripheral vision. "Anna, things may not be that simple. You're getting married."

"Don't be silly. I _have _spent a little time talking with Kristoff, you know," she huffed. Even from the corner of Elsa's eye, the pout was apparent. "It's not like he's gotta relocate to the arctic for the sake of his ice business. Neither of us is planning on leaving Arendelle."

The real argument couldn't seem to work its way around Elsa's tongue. _And what if I'm the one who has to go away? _The possibility of an arranged marriage was no longer something she could simply ignore. She hated herself for not just saying so, with the promise to confide in her sister still fresh in her mind.

But this was different, Elsa told herself. There were five more embassies to come, with five more offers to consider. She could talk things over with Anna, once there was actually something to talk about. The choice would be hers, and that was a factor she could still control. Anna could help her make that choice. And if they were lucky, there might even be an option that allowed them to remain together. "I just don't want to hold you back," she said at last.

"Don't ever think that," Anna said sternly. "I love you, Elsa. Way, way more than I do the thought of any grand adventure." She pulled them both together into a hug. "And don't you dare forget it."

Sinking into the warmth of her sister's unconditional affection, Elsa hadn't known until that moment just how much she'd needed it. She reached up to return the hug, even if she was too shaky and overcome to make her grip quite as fierce.

There was no telling how long the two of them stood there, but it was Anna who finally pulled back. Keeping her hands on Elsa's shoulders, she fixed her big sister with a wry grin. "But still, about my wedding present…"

Elsa nearly doubled over trying to bite back a laugh, blinking against the unshed tears welling along her lashes. "Oh, you're incorrigible."

"I don't know what that means," Anna said, smiling, "but whatever it is I know it's true, because it's you."

Elsa shook her head, and then fixed her sister with a sly grin. "So you want a dictionary for your wedding present? Well, if you insist."

"Hey!"

Their banter was interrupted by the sound of a throat being cleared. Seraphim, who had moved off to give the sisters some privacy and busied herself by basking in the pleasant view a bit further along the wall, had returned. "You need to see something," she said.

Elsa was instantly put on guard by the younger queen's grim expression. Beside her, she felt Anna stiffen as well. "What is it?"

Seraphim gestured, out towards the ocean, and instantly Elsa knew what it had to be. She darted towards the nearest gap in the wall, eyes wide and fearful as she scanned the horizon.

Even to an unpracticed eye, it was not terribly difficult to spot the differences between merchant vessels and warships. It was even easier when it was three warships, sailing together in close formation. They were coming into view around the smaller cape formed by the mountains that bordered Arendelle to the east, tacking in the face of fierce headwinds. Those same headwinds stretched their colors taut, making the sigils topping the mainmasts all too easy to see, even from this distance.

Two ensigns, deceptively simple in style, but ominous in meaning. One was tricolor, with three horizontal bars, white over blue over red. The second was also made of three equal stripes, two bars of red around one of white. Respectively, they represented the Russian and Austrian Empires. That they were sailing together in convoy was actually worth noting, even though what it meant was not particularly comforting. Prince Frederick had been correct: Austria was now sided in open opposition to France, and presumably its allies as well.

The three young women shared a look. Elsa wasn't sure if Anna recognized the sigils, but she certainly knew what they meant.

"We'd better get inside," said Seraphim. She looked at Elsa. "I'm pretty sure they're going to be looking for you soon enough."

They made their way back to Anna's secret stairwell at a half-jog. It wasn't until they were out of the wind and back inside that Elsa risked speaking. "Anna, I—"

"I'm coming with you," she said, actually stopping in the middle of the cramped stairs to turn and fix her sister with a determined glare. The ferocity of the expression faltered sheepishly as she glanced away. "I'll try not to throw any of them into the harbor this time."

A burst of grateful affection surged in Elsa's chest. "Unless they deserve it," she corrected.

Anna blinked in surprise for a moment. Then she smiled. "You bet."

"What's your plan?" Seraphim asked. They had reached the bottom of the stairwell, and were wedging themselves back through the tiny gap between the stacks of furniture in the old servants' quarters. "I'm guessing the whole invited guests act has been thrown in the midden."

"I suppose it has," Elsa acknowledged, gasping as she emerged into the second-floor hallway. She looked back and forth between Seraphim and Anna. "I'm open to suggestions."

The younger queen's eyes lit up almost immediately. "Tonight. The rehearsal dinner."

"Rats, I forgot all about that," said Anna, swatting at all the dust she'd picked up, which unfortunately stood out on the dark fabric she was wearing. "I'm going to have to change, aren't I?"

Elsa frowned at Seraphim. "But we just said that's not going to work anymore."

"Right, but just the whole 'welcome to Arendelle, please take a seat while my sister gets married' part," Sera explained. "I'm betting you still want them distracted and off-balance."

Elsa was starting to catch her meaning. She didn't think she could handle many more one-on-one bouts; she'd held her own in the audience with Ambassador Frederick, but it had nearly broken her spirits in the process. Simply ignoring the embassies wouldn't do her any good, either, so there was one option left: meet them, but on her own terms. "I think I see where you're going," she said.

"These stuffed shirts aren't going to want to wait for a formal reception," Seraphim said, "but I don't think they rate a rescheduling of anything wedding-related. So we kill two birds with one stone."

"I like this idea!" Anna exclaimed, a devious glint in her eyes. "Do you think we could get one of them to play the flower girl?"

"It wouldn't hurt to ask," Seraphim said, grinning wickedly.

"Let's not take it quite that far," Elsa cautioned. "Not unless you want to risk ending up with them filling the role for real when the time comes."

"Oh, fine," Anna pouted. "But you better believe that if any one of these guys proposes to you at first sight, I _will_ see him in a frilly pink dress."

"And here I was worried you wouldn't like the change in plans for tonight," Seraphim teased.

"Are you kidding? This'll be way more fun!" declared Anna. "The walk-through isn't for a few days, so tonight was just going to be an excuse for good food. Now we get that, _and_ we get to play around with some hoity-toity ambassadors."

"That's the idea," Sera agreed. She looked to Elsa. "Anna and I can run interference for you. Kristoff, too; I'm sure the Russians would _love _to hear all about the art of ice harvesting. And I'll find Uri." The skin around her eyes tightened, and for a moment her expression was indecipherable. "He'll be there, even if I have to nail him to his chair."

Elsa had no time to contemplate why he wouldn't be, as she suddenly remembered another important detail. "I suppose someone should find Ambassador Frederick, as well," she said, not at all happily.

"Yeah. _He_ can be the flower girl, just for tonight," Anna groused. She ran a hand around one of her braids. She stuck out her tongue in disgust as it came away covered with cobwebs. "Eww. I'd better find a brush. I'll meet you both downstairs." She hastened off in the direction of her room.

"I should send for Minister Henrik," said Elsa. "Someone will still need to meet the new delegations at the docks."

"I'll track down a guard," Seraphim offered, already hurrying towards the spiral staircase.

And so Elsa found herself alone once more, though perhaps not quite so alone as she had thought. Something told her that the foray onto the battlements would not be the most harrowing adventure of the day. But she was also, perhaps, just the tiniest bit excited. She didn't know what she'd ever done to deserve her sister's love, or the friendship of a girl as smart as Seraphim, but she was happy to have them on her side.

The queen took a deep, steadying breath, staring at the ceiling. The ambassadors of two more great nations of the world had arrived in Arendelle, but maybe – just maybe – it was they who didn't know what lay in store.


	12. Chapter Eleven: Age of Empires

**Frozen is the property of Disney.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER ELEVEN<strong>

**Age of Empires**

The grand ballroom of Arendelle Castle had seen less than its share of balls in recent years, but that did not make it unworthy of its name. The space dominated a good portion of the west wing on the castle's first floor, and in its history had been host to summer galas, state dinners, and one particularly memorable coronation ball. Though often closed, especially in the winter when the cavernous room was too drafty to keep comfortable, the preparations being made to ready it for its role as the wedding reception hall had left it open and well-trafficked.

It had also been transformed, especially compared to that morning. The industry of the staff had paid off, leaving the room almost unrecognizable. A space at the center of the parquet floor remained open for dancing, but the surrounding area had been filled with tables, sturdy and magnificent constructs of dark, polished wood. A lone table, the largest of all, was set in front of the queen's throne on its raised dais, which stood against the wall opposite the tall double doors of the main entrance. The rows of twinned pillars along the other two walls opened into alcoves; the space to the left when facing the throne had been filled with a bandstand and the less ornate tables that would hold refreshments, while the other alcove – the room's sole exterior wall – had been left open for mingling. It was furnished only by pairs of chairs set between each tall latticed window.

Every archway was festooned with ribbons and banners in white and silver, while the window curtains and all the draperies hanging from the pillars had been replaced with alternating fabric of purple and green, the royal colors. Fresh candles shimmered behind frosted glass globes on each of the four massive chandeliers, and the sconces set into the pillars filled the room with warm golden light.

It was a vibrant and welcoming atmosphere, which Elsa knew would be perfect for the feast and celebration that would take place in a week's time. The castle would be full to bursting with guests and dignitaries and friends, and while she had her part to play, the queen was looking forward to attending a party where she would not be the center of attention.

She was quite keenly aware that today was not that day.

The scant dozen people that were present now, clustered around the head table, only seemed to make the space seem larger. Standing at the base of the platform in front of her throne, Elsa surveyed the faces clustered around her. Bishop William and Mayor Lucas were to one side, chatting with Ambassador Frederick, who sent Elsa a white-toothed smile. She ignored the Danish prince, allowing her eyes to keep moving from left to right as she took in Sebastian and Captain Martin, absorbed in their own conversation nearby. Kristoff, Seraphim and Uriel were huddled conspiratorially at the other end of the head table. The young queen had also beckoned Kai over to whisper something in the chamberlain's ear, which he was nodding along with. To Elsa's right, in the shadows behind the pillars and their accompanying lamplight, a full squad of Arendelle guardsmen was standing at attention. The queen thought the men looked like statues, half-hidden in the gloom. Through the windows to her left, night had fallen. Of the castle courtyard beyond, only pale shadows could be seen in the faint gleam of moonlight.

Anna sidled up to her, breaking the queen's ruminations with a tentative little wave. "You okay?"

Elsa managed a nervous smile. "I guess so. Are you?" she wondered. "For a rehearsal dinner, this evening isn't exactly following the schedule."

"We have one of those?" She feigned a gasp. "When did that happen?"

"Around the time you started forgetting whether you'd put the cutting of the cake before or after the first dance," Elsa said.

"And you wouldn't believe how bummed I am we don't have a cake to practice with tonight," Anna replied. "I'm worried about that part, you know. What if I'm standing in front of all those people and I forget how to cut a cake? The whole thing would be ruined. The kingdom might not survive the scandal!"

"Liar," Elsa teased. "You said yourself that tonight's an excuse for good food. You just want cake."

"Can't both things be true?" Anna wondered. "And you know me. When the big day comes, I'll probably forget which way I'm supposed to walk down the aisle."

"That would be towards Kristoff, dear," she deadpanned. "But we're not practicing that part tonight."

Anna winked. "Gotcha. I'll write myself a note to remember."

There was a brief sound of footsteps, and one of the doors of the main entrance cracked open just enough to admit a guard. He sent a furtive nod in Elsa's direction before taking his post beside the entrance.

Elsa took a deep breath. They were coming.

"It's not too late to move this shindig to the docks," Anna murmured.

The queen's face broke into a fleeting smile. She schooled her expression back into blank neutrality, but could tell as she glanced aside that her sister had noticed the slip. Amusement was glittering in Anna's eyes. "Shush. They're here."

This time, both doors opened with a flourish. First through came Minister Henrik. Elsa's councilor was strutting like a mother goose leading her flock as he entered at the head of a half-dozen men.

Two of them wore suits. The first was a balding man of perhaps fifty, humbly attired in a grey woolen waistcoat and shirt with a white ascot tie. His dark trousers and dull black boots were flecked with the white stains of sea salt. The outfit looked well-worn, much like its wearer, who looked about with an expression of harried appraisal.

The second man was younger, perhaps in his thirties, and much more finely dressed. His clothes were impeccably clean and made from cuts of rich fabrics. A fine jacket of black satin was positively encrusted with gold thread and leafing around the cuffs and across the chest, where it was eclipsed only by a thick baldric of red silk. A high, starched collar propped up a narrow, pinched face, which stared forward unsmilingly.

The other four men accompanying the minister wore military uniforms, but while three of them were apparently guards, the fourth was much more regally appointed. Immaculate white trousers were tucked into gleaming black boots, and a cavalry saber hung at his left hip from a belt that looked to be made of pure gold. His vest was blood-red, save where it was gold as well: the single row of buttons and a medallion of station as big as an apple.

Minister Henrik herded the entourage to a stop in front of the head table, and turned to make introductions. "Your Majesty, may I present our most honored guests. From the Empire of Russia," he gestured to the balding man in the simple suit, "Mikhail Speransky, minister of the state council and advisor to Tsar Alexander."

It was only at the sound of his name that the man noticed the minister pointing to him. He looked at Elsa and bowed respectfully, though without saying a word. Elsa acknowledged him with an equally silent but gracious nod.

"And from the Empire of Austria, two most esteemed individuals," Henrik went on. "My counterpart from Vienna, Klemens von Metternich, Foreign Minister." Henrik indicated the finely-tailored man, who was surveying the room with a look of boredom.

Metternich spared Elsa a similarly disinterested glance. "Your Majesty," he said stiffly, granting her only the barest tilt of his head. Elsa wondered if he was encumbered by his starched collar, but she realized that what little respect he had granted her was also marred by a sneer. As the expression turned the man's pinched face, Elsa found herself with the strong impression of a rat.

"Last, but certainly not least," Henrik concluded, with a shuffling bow towards the man in the opulent red uniform, "The Archduke Louis of Habsburg-Lorraine, Prince Imperial and brother to Emperor Francis." Though his face was difficult to read, the man snapped to attention and bowed to Elsa with crisp, military precision.

"Gentlemen, welcome to Arendelle," Elsa said, looking to each of them in turn. Archduke Louis was attentive, standing at parade rest. Minister Metternich was still glancing about the ballroom, surveying his surroundings with an expression that eloquently illustrated how unimpressed he was. Speransky was listening to her words, but had a blank look on his face, almost like he couldn't quite hear her. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. Dinner will be served shortly."

"That won't be necessary," Metternich said, stepping forward. Speaking in French, his voice was precise, nasal, and more than a little condescending. "Much as we appreciate your kingdom's…" he glanced pointedly at the throne behind Elsa, one eyebrow creeping upwards, "rustic charm… I'd much rather get this business over with."

Archduke Louis cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice was thickly flavored with the rough, though not unpleasant, Germanic growl of his homeland. "My colleague is obviously eager to speak to you, but we have traveled quite a long way, through rough and unfriendly seas," he said, giving Metternich a sidelong look. "I would gladly accept some wine while we wait."

"Of course," said Elsa. She nodded at Kai, who took up a tray with glasses in one hand and a pitcher in another.

Before the chamberlain had even made his way around the table, Metternich groaned. "Superstitious nonsense," he muttered.

As Kai offered him a glass, the archduke accepted it with a polite nod and took a sip. "Thank you, Your Majesty. Your hospitality is most appreciated."

Elsa was curious at the dynamic in play before her. Metternich, with all his arrogance and dismissiveness, was acting in a way that Elsa was prepared to deal with. He was behaving as she might expect the important minister of a great nation to behave when sent to a tiny kingdom like Arendelle; it was almost refreshing, in a way.

Archduke Louis was tougher to read. Though outwardly calm and far more polite, his asking for refreshment and thanking her for hospitality might have been deliberate. One of the oldest and most sacred traditions in the civilized world was that of hospitality: a guest was to be kept safe and protected by their host, and was not to harm their host in return. Elsa had welcomed the ambassadors to her kingdom, and by accepting her offer – taking the glass of wine – the Archduke had symbolically reciprocated. There was no way to know whether Louis was trying to tell her something, or if he had simply been thirsty, but the Habsburg dynasty was one of the oldest in Europe. They had not endured through carelessness.

Speransky, of course, having yet to say a word, was still a mystery to her. "Ambassador," she said, addressing the Russian representative, "would you care for anything? We have coffee or tea, if you'd prefer."

He saw her speaking to him, but his only reply was a blank stare.

Metternich snorted. It was a high, wheezy sound, full of contempt. "Your words are wasted on him," he sneered. "He doesn't speak French. Or German. Or English. We're all out of luck with this one, unless you're fluent in Latin."

Something in his tone drew a scowl from Speransky. He might not speak the language, but he could certainly tell a lot from Metternich's manners.

Louis was quick to offer an explanation. "We set sail from Gdańsk on four Prussian frigates, but were scattered by a storm shortly afterwards. By the time we had regrouped, one of our convoy had been picked off by a privateer, presumably French," he said. "We were hosting Mr. Speransky for dinner on our flagship, but his luggage and his entourage, including his interpreter, were lost."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Elsa said diplomatically.

"One of the officers on our ship speaks German and some Latin," Louis went on. "Which has allowed us to communicate a bit, but I'm aware that might make for some awkwardness. I don't suppose your foreign minister speaks Russian?"

"Sadly, no," said Henrik. "I'm not aware of anyone in Arendelle who—"

Suddenly, Anna was all but bouncing on her toes, waving a hand in the air like an eager student in the schoolhouse. "Ooh! Me, me! I mean, _ya delayu_!"

Speransky's gaze shot to Anna. He blinked in confusion. "_Vy govorite po russki?_" he said.

Anna held her hand flat, tilting it back and forth. "_Nemnoga_."

Speransky broke into a wide smile that took years off his face. He and Anna approached one another, bursting into a rapid exchange of chatter that no one else in the room could even begin to follow. Elsa looked at Archduke Louis, who shrugged.

"Wonderful," Metternich said dryly. "Shall we solve all the rest of the world's problems by waiting for happenstance, or might we get down to business?"

"Always in such a rush, Klemens. Does it make you feel more important to seem so harried?" The question came from Prince Frederick, and Elsa was relieved to see the man's sly grin aimed in another direction for a change.

"Ah, Frederick. How wonderful to see you," Metternich replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "How is your cousin? Still cleaning Bonaparte's boots, I presume?"

"Why would he bother? The shine from your master's last visit is still fresh."

"Still playing the witty courtier, I see," scoffed Metternich. "Small wonder you're so easily confused by the difference between a peace treaty and an alliance. Austria has never been a willing friend to France."

"Oh, so that's why you keep changing sides," Frederick purred. "I thought it might have finally stuck when you arranged for Emperor Francis to marry his daughter to the Corsican. I know it's natural for men to look unfavorably upon their sons-in-law, but going to war? Don't you think that's a bit excessive?"

There was a shred of guilty amusement roused deep in Elsa's heart at the sight of the men spitting at each other instead of her, but diplomacy demanded she ensure that her guests didn't call for pistols in her own grand ballroom. "Gentlemen, please!" she called out, before the argument could escalate. "This isn't the time or the place for such discussions."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Frederick said, turning to bow. "I didn't mean to sully your court with idle banter. My apologies."

Metternich sent a sniff of laughter in the prince's direction. "Sully, indeed." He turned to her. "Queen Elsa, the sooner you hear us out, the sooner we can be on our way."

"Don't be in such a hurry to leave, Minister," said Frederick. "I've found the charm of this place growing with each passing day." He winked at Elsa.

She scowled, and Metternich opened his mouth to retort, but both of them were forestalled by Archduke Louis. "It might be best if the minister and I retired for the evening, and met with you at another time," he said to Elsa. He cast a significant glance at Frederick. "Perhaps when it's not so crowded. After all, I see no need to have come all this way only to rush through the business at hand."

"Guest rooms have been prepared for both the minister and yourself, Your Grace," Elsa offered. While she'd originally decided to only provide quarters to the titled ambassadors, she was not about to ask an Imperial Prince to find lodgings in the city, let alone relegate him to the staff quarters in the castle basement. "I hope you can understand that I'm a bit preoccupied with preparations for my sister's wedding, but I will of course try to find some time for—"

She was interrupted by the sound of the doors to the ballroom opening. A guard hurried through, making a beeline for Elsa at a pace that was just shy of a run. Muttering a hasty apology to the gathered guests, he made his way around the head table and bent over to whisper a message.

Amidst the curious stares and conspicuous silence that had fallen over the room, Elsa's eyes grew wide. "See them in," she said at once, dismissing the guard with a shaky nod. As he jogged back the way he had come, Elsa turned to address the room, straining to hold on to her calm countenance.

"It seems more guests have just arrived," Elsa announced. Her gaze darted across the friendlier faces arrayed before her. Minister Henrik was blinking owlishly. Seraphim and Uriel shared a surprised look. Anna, stopped mid-sentence in her conversation with Speransky, was glancing back and forth between her sister and the doors with concern.

The entrance to the grand ballroom was thrown open once more, and a pair of guards ushered in a new group of visitors. They were led by a man in a distinctive military uniform, royal blue with gold epaulettes. As he entered, he raised a hand to remove his white-feathered bicorn hat. In the same hand, tucked into the crook of his elbow, was a velvet-wrapped baton in the same dark blue shade of his uniform. He was marching forward with long, precise steps, like a general striding onto the field of battle, quickly closing the distance across the grand ballroom.

He was followed by another man in a long, tailed suit and high white stockings. The second man was struggling to keep pace, as he walked with an obvious limp. He carried a cane that clicked loudly on the parquet floor with every step, the sound echoing in the sudden silence that filled the ballroom.

They came to a stop next to the Austrian delegates, who were regarding the newcomers with dark, wary looks. Metternich inhaled with an audible gasp when he looked at the man with the cane, who returned his gaze with a small smile and a jaunty nod of his head.

The uniformed man took one last step forward to speak. He was clean shaven, with short, dark hair and thick sideburns. Four silver stars were sewn into his collar. "Your Majesty. I apologize for the lateness of the hour, but when I heard you were meeting already with emissaries to your kingdom, I felt it prudent to insist we see you at once."

"No apology is necessary," Elsa replied. Her words sounded stiff and her tongue felt clumsy, in comparison to the man's silky, flawless French. "All are welcome in Arendelle."

"I'm glad to hear it," the officer replied. "But where are my manners? I am General Auguste de Marmont, Marshal of the Empire and His Imperial Majesty Napoleon the First's appointed ambassador to the Kingdom of Arendelle."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, General," Elsa replied. She waited for a moment, but Marmont made no move towards subsequent introductions. "And who are your companions…?" she prompted.

Marmont frowned, casting a reluctant glance over the golden tassels of his shoulder boards.

The man with the cane gave the general a cheeky grin as he took a shuffling half-step forward. "No one of note, Your Majesty," he said. He bowed awkwardly, smoothing his ash-blonde hair back with his free hand as he rose. "I'm merely an advisor to the good general. Though his prowess upon the field of battle is matched by few, I came along to provide my own not inconsiderable experience in the arena of politics."

"And for all that experience, you've never learned to get to the point," Marmont growled. "Her Majesty didn't ask for your life story, Talleyrand, just your name."

"Which you declined to provide. I wonder, which of us struggles more with – how did you put it? – getting the point." He turned back to Elsa. "Charles de Talleyrand is my name, Your Majesty. I shall not claim to be at your service, for as you can see the fearsome general has that honor already."

"Talleyrand," hissed the Austrian foreign minister. "What are you doing here?"

The Frenchman spread his arms. "Well, Klemens, I can tell you with complete confidence that I am standing."

Metternich blinked. "Last I heard, you'd been dismissed from your post and charged with treason. Why in God's name would Bonaparte let you out of his sight?"

"The Emperor has shared few of his concerns with me in recent years," Talleyrand replied, "the main exception being the fact that I am not among them. On the contrary, I was approached by Foreign Minister Maret, and offered a chance to provide my expertise to this charming expedition. On the condition that I am here strictly as a private citizen," he said, turning to Elsa, "I have been given a remarkable opportunity to visit a place whose name I somehow neglected to learn, in all my years of service to the French Foreign Ministry. I can see now that I was hopelessly ill-informed of the wonders beyond our fair continent."

"Thank you," said Elsa. In the man before her she found an enigma. He spoke with none of Metternich's dismissiveness or Archduke Louis' stiff formality. His words seemed honest, in a way Prince Frederick's sly flattery never did. And for all his protestations of humility, he had won the attention of the room from the moment he'd stepped forward. It was no wonder Marmont, who was supposed to be the actual ambassador, had been so reluctant to introduce him. "I hope you enjoy your visit to Arendelle," she offered.

"I think that quite likely," Talleyrand replied. "But first, if you'll allow me one last introduction, Your Majesty," he said, turning to the side and holding out a hand with a beckoning motion.

Only then did Elsa realize there was another member of the French party. A third figure stepped out from a place half-hidden behind Marmont and between the two Arendelle guards that had escorted them into the room. Though dressed in a suit coat and long trousers bloused into a pair of uniform boots, the queen realized with a start that she was looking at a young woman. Curves hidden by the strange choice of attire, it was only by her fine features and hair that her gender was revealed. Hands with delicate fingers reached up to tug at the braid of long, chocolate-brown hair over her shoulder as she stepped hesitantly into view. Two strikingly pale blue eyes, like a high summer sky, glanced at the queen in a succession of brief, almost fearful, glances.

"Come now, my dear, Her Majesty won't bite," Talleyrand urged. "She's a shy thing, to be sure," he said to Elsa. "This is Alais, my aide."

The young woman said nothing, only shuffled until she was hidden behind Talleyrand instead. She was Elsa's own age, perhaps a few years older, but it was difficult to tell for certain, given her manner and hunched posture. "It's nice to meet you," Elsa said gently.

"Please don't take offense, Your Majesty," said Talleyrand. "But around new faces, especially, I fear she's not one for many words."

"Which you've more than made up for by yourself," Marmont interrupted. Elsa, who had still been watching Alais, saw the young woman flinch. The general's tone was sharp, though directed at Talleyrand and not at the poor girl huddled behind him. He turned to address the queen. "Now that introductions have been settled, perhaps we can move on. Your Majesty, I have been sent here with—"

"Now wait just a second," Metternich barked. "You can't just barge in here and start talking. We were here first!"

"If your business isn't concluded," Talleyrand said, "perhaps you should have talked faster."

"Let me handle this," Marmont said, stepping in between his fellow Frenchman and Metternich. "If I need your advice, I'll be sure to ask for it."

"This isn't some siege on the Peninsula you can throw a fresh regiment at, Marmont," Metternich growled. "If you think Austria will stand idly by as—"

Before Elsa could step in to stop yet another brewing confrontation, the entire room was shocked into silence by a long, loud, and piercingly shrill whistle. Ears ringing, she looked towards the sound.

Next to Ambassador Speransky, who was wide-eyed and gawking with his hands clapped over his ears, was Anna. Two fingers were still pinched between her lips, and a furious flush was creeping up her neck. She moved her hand from her mouth in order to point a shaking finger at the quarrelsome delegations. "Look, I don't know who you all think you are, and I don't really care. But you've barged in on the rehearsal dinner for my wedding, and now you're arguing like a bunch of kids in front of my sister. You know, the queen over there? She's too nice to box your ears – or, better yet, freeze your loud mouths shut – but if you guys need a referee, I'm game."

More than a dozen pairs of eyes blinked at the princess in the overwhelming silence of the grand ballroom. The flush on Anna's neck crept upwards to her ears. She glanced at Elsa, one side of her mouth twisting into a sheepish grin. "Was that too much?"

"Oh, I _like_ her!" Talleyrand said, with a single bark of laughter.

"Ahem," Elsa managed weakly, trying to reclaim both her composure and the attention of the assembled audience. "What my sister means to say is…" she spent a moment groping for a more politic translation. Nothing sprang to mind, so she gave up. If the goal had been to ensure the ambassadors and their delegations were surprised and off-balance, that mission was certainly accomplished. At least no one had ended up in the harbor this time around.

Elsa drew herself up and simply started over. "Dinner should be served momentarily," she offered, surprised at the sound of her own calmness after Anna's rather more honest and direct tone. "If any of you wish to dine with us this evening, you're more than welcome to stay." She felt the shadow of a smile creep into her calm demeanor. "Anyone with other plans can speak to my sister."

The Austrian and French embassies traded brief, scathing looks, but no one took the queen – or rather the princess – up on the implied offer. The hum of voices returned, however haltingly, as the groups scattered into the small cliques of mingling conversations. Speransky caught Anna's attention with a hushed inquiry, probably asking what all the shouting had been about. Metternich frowned before walking up to Talleyrand and his aide. General Marmont seemed to drift for a moment, before being approached by Seraphim and Uriel.

Chaos thus forestalled for the time being, Elsa took a deep breath and walked over to the bays of tall windows to the side of the room. She looked out upon the castle courtyard, which stood quiet and empty, lit faintly by the silvery sheen of moonlight. Judging by the glittering spouts of the fountains and the quiescence of the windows in their frames, the howling winds of the past few days seemed to have finally calmed. Elsa wondered briefly if that was some kind of omen, and if so, whether it was a good sign or a bad one.

"A lovely evening," a voice said from behind her.

Elsa jumped with a gasp, startled out of her wandering thoughts. Turning, she saw Archduke Louis, standing a respectful distance away.

"Never fear, Your Majesty." He smiled thinly, and held up his wine glass, as if to make a toast. "Had I been looking to spring an ambush, this would not have been my weapon of choice."

Buying a moment for her heart rate to return to normal, Elsa studied him. The Archduke's hair was a nest of dark, scraggly curls, creeping back in a way that could no longer quite hide a widow's peak. His eyes were small and slightly uneven, with a heavy-lidded look that made him seem rather tired. His nose was tall and flat, leading down to a pouty mouth and too-small chin. Up close, even in the faint light, he was not a handsome man. But in spite of that, Elsa found her momentary fears fading. He had startled her, yes, but he did not scare her. That was a distinction worth noting. "Should I be looking for an ambush, Your Grace?" she wondered.

"Always," he replied. Then he shrugged. "But perhaps I've spent too much of my life as a soldier to think otherwise. I've been told I possess a healthy sense of paranoia."

"I see," said Elsa. She had never been a soldier, and hoped fervently never to become one. But she, too, had grown up with one eye constantly looking over her shoulder. Hiding herself, staying away from the few people around her… perhaps it was not so different, in a sense. But that was not a question for a stranger. "Was there something you needed?"

"I wonder," Louis replied. He held up his wine glass, swirling and studying the contents for a moment before giving Elsa a sidelong glance. "This is a fine vintage, but I've always had a taste for iced wine. If you don't think it too impertinent to ask, could you…?"

"Of course," she said, with a faint smile. He held out his glass, but Elsa didn't take it. She merely held her hand above it, and a few inches from her palm there was a soft shimmer of blue light. Three small pieces of ice took shape in perfect crystal-clear cubes, dropping into the half-full glass with a series of plops.

Louis held his glass up to the faint moonlight, staring in wonder. "Remarkable," he breathed.

Elsa was suddenly reminded that not everyone was so familiar with her magic. "It's safe," she said, feeling compelled to reassure him. "No different from any other ice."

"That would be patently untrue, unless all ice in Arendelle appears from thin air," he countered, a bit wryly. "You know, I wasn't quite sure what to believe when the stories reached Vienna. Too many accounts to dismiss out of hand, but I don't think any amount of eyewitness testimony can truly match the impact of seeing something with one's own two eyes."

Elsa turned away, preferring the serenity of the darkened courtyard to the awestruck and oddly hungry expression on the Archduke's face. It was another reminder of just why so many strangers from the grand empires of the continent had come to Arendelle. Not to make polite conversation or enjoy a glass of iced wine, but to see her… or rather, her powers. And claim them. "So now you've seen things for yourself, Your Grace. You sound almost surprised."

"Shouldn't I be?" he wondered. "Admittedly, I wasn't quite as skeptical as Minister Metternich. I feel I must apologize for him; though he's come all this way, he's done so convinced we were on a fool's errand. Even before my brother sent us off, Klemens was adamant that this whole journey was a tremendous waste of time."

That certainly explained the blatant disinterest the Austrian minister had shown from the moment he'd arrived. "I almost wish he were right," Elsa said quietly. But as soon as the words escaped her, she wished she hadn't said anything at all .

To his credit, Louis did not pounce on her ill-thought confession. Instead he nodded, almost sympathetically. "I don't imagine this is how you envisioned spending the days leading up your sister's wedding."

"That's not what I meant," she said quickly. "I didn't mean to imply—"

"Don't worry," he cut her off with a dismissive wave. "Another hazard of a soldier's life is spending a great deal of time in places where people who are none too happy to see you are forced to pretend otherwise. Most of them at least had the opportunity to fight back before it happened." He took a sip from his wineglass. "You've been far more gracious than any of us had a right to expect."

That was a point of view that Elsa had not considered. She'd been so busy wishing the embassies weren't coming that she'd not spared much thought to how they might expect to be received. "What _did_ you expect?" she wondered. "I mean, if you were so unsure about what you'd find…"

"I don't rightly know," Louis replied. "Exaggeration? Outright myth? To be thrown back by a winter storm? Anything and everything in between, perhaps. You know, more than a few of the crewmen on our ships were certain the winds we fought all the way here were actually your doing."

"It would have been tempting to try," Elsa admitted. "But even I'm not capable of throwing a gale across the whole North Sea."

Their conversation was interrupted by the harsh bark of Minister Metternich. "And we're all glad to hear it," he said. "Of course, if you had been responsible, it would be cause to question your motives."

"Klemens," Louis said wearily, "don't start—"

"Please, Your Grace, let me finish. If you wish to indulge in magical fantasies, at least allow me to carry the thought to its logical conclusion. After all, the wind that stymied us on the journey west was just as instrumental in bringing the French here swiftly." He gave Elsa a pointed look. "Tell me, Your Majesty. What would you conclude from that, I wonder?"

"I can't change the world, Ambassador," Elsa replied tartly, refusing to acknowledge the implication that she was playing favorites amongst the delegations. It was with perfect impartiality and equal fervor that she wanted them all elsewhere. "And if I could change it, I wouldn't want to."

"All the more reason you are completely unworthy of our mission here," Metternich replied, "You have no vision. No ambition. And that's why you are of no consequence, even if I were to accept all this nonsense about your whims controlling ice and snow."

Elsa held her tongue. She allowed herself a brief fantasy, envisioning just how quickly a blizzard in the ballroom would dispel the man's obnoxious skepticism, but she kept that image in her imagination alone. If she wanted these people to believe that she had no desire to use her powers on their behalf, such a display would be both petty and counterproductive. Her magic had a greater purpose than quieting one combative cynic. In fact, she would be much better served by reinforcing his viewpoint that she wasn't worth their time.

Before Elsa could think of a way to make her own case, another new voice joined the conversation. "Don't be so sure, Metternich." Christian Frederick emerged from the shadows behind the nearest pair of pillars, where he had apparently been eavesdropping. "If I were you, I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss something just because you find it incredible."

Elsa glanced nervously about, all of a sudden finding herself terribly outnumbered. Back in the middle of the room, she could see Anna still absorbed in conversation with Ambassador Speransky. Nearby, Kristoff had somehow been swept up into a conversation with Talleyrand and Minister Henrik. While Seraphim and Uriel both appeared to be keeping General Marmont at bay, they had their backs to her. Elsa cursed her own foolishness; she should have stayed near the head table, where she would have been closer to help, or at least easier to spot than she was in the shadows of the alcove.

The only person who seemed to be looking her way was the quiet French aide, Alais. She was standing next to Talleyrand, staring fixedly at Elsa. But when the young woman caught the queen looking back at her, she turned away.

Regrettably, Elsa couldn't call for her guards to save her from smalltalk. For the moment, it seemed the queen's only reprieve was that the dignitaries moving to surround her were more intent upon one another. Frederick was eyeing Metternich with the same sly, vaguely predatory look he'd given Elsa during the last half of their audience. "If you're so convinced that this trip was a waste of time, why are you even here?"

"I serve at the pleasure of Emperor Francis," Metternich replied haughtily. "I go where I'm asked."

"Not without a tremendous amount of bellyaching, it seems," Frederick countered. "For such a loyal servant, you sure do groan a lot."

"I make a point of not mincing words. I didn't spare the emperor my thoughts on what a waste of time this little side trip was going to be, but he still trusts me to represent him because he values honesty."

"It's a shame he doesn't prefer tact."

"Ambassadors, please," Elsa said. The delegations had shared a room for less than twenty minutes, and she was already losing count of how many times the parties had threatened one another like cats and dogs. It didn't help that Frederick seemed to make a living by provoking responses from his targets.

"Apologies, Your Majesty," the Danish prince said. "I meant no disrespect."

Elsa doubted that very much. "I'm getting tired of listening to you apologize for the same offenses, Ambassador. If you want me to take your ambitions seriously, you might try honesty yourself for a change."

"I'd love to know what those ambitions might be," Metternich said sarcastically. He chuckled as he glanced at Archduke Louis. "Composing a love sonnet to himself, perhaps?"

"None of your business," Frederick replied smoothly. Ignoring the minister's amusement, he took Elsa's hand, bending into a bow to kiss it. "That is a matter between Her Majesty and myself."

Elsa's skin crawled beneath the man's oily touch. She pulled her hand from his grasp, wrapping her arms about her stomach as she backed away, all but pressing herself against the nearest window. It was all too much. "His Highness has designs on the throne of Norway," she spat out, unthinking. Frederick's attentions had finally driven Elsa too far beyond comfort to ignore. Some part of her, the small and forgotten embers of self-worth stifled by years of isolation and neglect, lashed out, wishing to hurt this man, as he had hurt her. "I'm told the Assembly has already offered him the crown."

Frederick stood stock-straight, mouth open in shock; Elsa could not have wished for a better response if she had slapped him full in the face. But her sense of victory was short-lived. The Danish prince's surprise vanished into simmering anger, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

Elsa felt her mouth go dry as the consequences of her impulsiveness slowly dawned. She hadn't bothered correcting Metternich's wrongheaded skepticism, and it was for the same reasons that she should never have replied to Frederick's latest impertinence so harshly: the benefits of being right were far outweighed by the cost. Elsa had forgotten herself, and in so doing had forgotten that this was a man with a demonstrated ability to hurt her with his words. Without wit or guile to call upon, her only weapon had been the crude betrayal of the ambassador's plans, but Frederick could do far worse.

The question was what. Would he reveal the role he'd offered to her once he'd taken a crown of his own? Or would he simply tell the story of her clumsy attempts to play the ambassadors off as wedding guests? Nothing fatal, perhaps, except to Elsa's already limited credibility. Or would he simply choose one of his cutting remarks? Already near the point of panic, the queen knew it wouldn't take much to send her running from the room like a terrified little girl. She felt the sweat tingling on the palms of her hands, which were trembling in spite of how tightly they were clenched.

Frederick stared at her. There was no hint of amusement in his dark, dangerous eyes. The muscles of his jaw were visibly clenched. His nostrils flared with each breath he took. Once. Twice. Thrice.

He looked away.

Metternich was smiling with grim amusement. "A crown? Really? So the young prince doesn't want to wait his turn to become a king. I'd congratulate you, but _Norway_? It's hardly worth the breath."

"Better a king than any man's errand boy," Frederick snarled back. "I wouldn't expect you to understand, Metternich. You seem quite content begging for table scraps."

Elsa was barely listening. Relief washed over her, followed quickly by confusion. Why had the Danish ambassador passed up the opportunity to strike back at her? Surely not compassion. Even if he had bothered to demonstrate any capacity for it, Frederick's anger was frighteningly real, as his tone with Metternich made all too clear. The only thing that could stay the hand of a consummate politician like Prince Frederick was pragmatism; cold, simple self-interest was what had driven his every step since he'd left his ship. So what did he have to gain by sparing her?

When it came to her, the answer was stunningly simple. _He needs me_, Elsa realized. He needed her to tip the scales in the proposed triumvirate, and would depend upon her magic to ensure their safety from the other powers, all of whom were more populous and powerful than Denmark-Norway. He might enjoy teasing at her inexperience in private, but Frederick wasn't about to undercut or humiliate her publicly, not when the success or failure of his entire plot hinged on Elsa's cooperation.

If only the other ambassadors – or at least Klemens von Metternich – were so beholden. The Austrian foreign minister was giving no quarter. "You think I'm the one begging for scraps? Look at yourself, Frederick. You're willing to abase yourself before the ruler of a fishing village, all in the hopes of winning the favor of a queen whose influence stems from outlandish rumors. I may be here for the same purpose, but at least I'm not being so slavish about it."

"I don't know how Austrians usually treat potential allies," said Frederick, "but where I come from it's considered very bad form to insult one's host."

"I consider it far more uncouth to manipulate and lead on those who would be better served with the truth," Metternich replied, not backing down from the Danish prince in the slightest. "Unlike some, who have an endless supply of meaningless flattery on hand for anyone without the wits to see through it."

"Mind your tongue, Minister!" Louis commanded. "Remember that we are guests here!"

"Yes, Your Grace," Frederick said smoothly. "Muzzle your dog before he ruins any chance for success you might have. Lord knows the good minister is only proving the point I made to Her Majesty the other day."

"And what point would that be?" asked Metternich, with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

"That only Denmark is prepared to entreat seriously with the Kingdom of Arendelle." The prince's anger had long since faded, and he was once more a picture of calm indifference. He gave Elsa a meaningful look. She could practically hear his words from the other day echoing anew: _Do you actually think you'll get any offers that are better?_

"Don't be ridiculous," Metternich scoffed. "I know your type, Frederick. The only thing you're serious about is finding another bedwarmer."

"Klemens, that's enough!" the Archduke said sharply. "For God's sake, Her Majesty is standing right here!"

Was she? Standing trapped between the three men and the windows to the courtyard, Elsa was listening to the conversation with a bizarre sense of detachment. Some part of her knew that she should be offended. That she should be speaking up in her own defense. But was it really so easy for everyone else to see how she was being outmaneuvered and used? Elsa had seen through Frederick's plot... eventually. But it had taken her far longer than it should have, as far as she was concerned, especially now that she'd seen how quickly a more experienced politician had cottoned on. And as crude as his analogy was, Metternich had summed up the queen's intended role in the Danish prince's scheme. The Austrian ambassador was crass and superior, yes, but was he _wrong_?

_Even if he is, what choice do I have?_ Elsa wondered. Freezing the man's mouth shut in a fit of pique was hardly an option. Taking umbrage and evicting the ambassador was little better. It would only prove Frederick's point, and might endanger Arendelle in the process; men as proud as Metternich didn't react well to censure from those they deemed inferior. No, it was far better to ignore his insults and hope to work with Archduke Louis, who at least seemed reasonable.

Above all, Elsa was unwilling to take a risk. In trying to stand up for herself moments ago, she had just narrowly avoided humiliation by sheer chance. She was not about to try her luck again, not when she was playing as a pawn on the board in the age of empires.

"Believe what you will, Minister Metternich," said Frederick. His tone sent shivers down Elsa's spine. Somehow she knew she was watching a viper in the instant before it struck. "Perhaps you're just too ashamed of the hand you were dealt to negotiate in good faith."

"You silly little fool. You think the Austrian Empire is about to be outbid by the hinterland you call a kingdom?" Metternich was flushing with indignation, his chest puffing out beneath his tall starched collar. The Archduke reached out, perhaps trying to calm him, but in his ire the minister's rant stormed onwards. "What has Denmark offered? You? Hah! What are you, compared to the son and heir to Emperor Francis himself?"

Elsa wanted to sink into the windows behind her and disappear. It was bad enough being bartered over in a private audience. But these men were standing around, talking about whom she would marry as if each of them was presenting her with some great honor. As if, in exchange for her loyalty to them, they were offering her something she actually valued.

Louis had the grace to look ashamed, shaking his head sadly at his foreign minister. Metternich, for his part, seemed at last to have realized what the Danish envoy had goaded him into. His anger was gone, his arrogance collapsing like a thatch roof beneath several feet of snow.

And Ambassador Frederick was laughing.

Not a triumphant smirk. Not a superior snicker. Not even a satisfied chuckle. No, Prince Christian Frederick had doubled over with wild, uproarious, gut-shaking laughter. He seemed incapable of words. Every time he even looked at Metternich, his cachinnations intensified. As the noise echoed through the grand ballroom, drawing stares from the groups milling about the center of the room, Frederick began to walk away. Had Elsa cared at all for the man's well-being, she would have been worried at the breathless wheezing that was creeping into the sounds of his laughter as he stumbled in the direction of the exit.

The archduke was red-faced with shame, or anger, or both. Metternich had skipped red entirely for a shade of purple that clashed alarmingly with his silken baldric.

Elsa could only feel as though she'd missed the joke.


	13. Chapter Twelve: Marching Orders

**Frozen is the property of Disney.**

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER TWELVE<strong>

**Marching Orders**

"He said _what_?"

Elsa winced at the shout that rattled off the walls of the family dining room. Not wanting to let her story spoil her breakfast, she calmly finished stirring honey into her porridge before replying to her sister's question. "As far as I can tell, the Austrian ambassador plans to offer marriage to the emperor's son and heir."

For a moment, she wondered if Anna would ask her to repeat herself again. When her sister was still boggling after a few seconds, Elsa deemed it safe to take a bite of her porridge. She was surprised to have woken with any appetite at all after the events during the rehearsal dinner the night before, so she wasn't about to ignore it. She'd never hear the end of it from Gerda if she kept skipping meals.

"You're kidding," Anna eventually managed to say.

"I'm afraid not." Elsa frowned, and added another spoonful of honey to her bowl.

Kristoff was staring at her, his eyes just as wide as his fiancé's. "Wait a second," he said, pointing at the queen with his fork. "I'm not so good with this nobility stuff, but doesn't that mean you'd be the Empress of Austria?"

"If I were to accept, yes. Eventually. I suppose that's why Ambassador Metternich has been so… difficult," Elsa said, coming up with perhaps the tamest adjective for the Austrian envoy's attitude. "He's made it clear that he thinks a marriage between an Imperial Prince and the ruler of a kingdom as small as Arendelle is a very poor match."

"Yeah, well, I don't think any old prince is good enough for _you,_" said Anna. "And that goes double for Freddy." She had taken to calling Christian Frederick by that nickname, and not out of affection. "What was his problem, anyway? When he left, he looked like he was ready to pass out from laughing so hard."

"I'm not sure," Elsa admitted. "He basically tricked Ambassador Metternich into telling me about the emperor's marriage offer, so he might just have been rubbing it in."

Anna's eyebrows knit together in consternation. "I don't get it. That doesn't seem _that_ funny, even for Freddy's warped sense of humor."

"I think he was trying to compare himself to the emperor's son," Elsa explained. "To make himself seem like a… better option." That felt like Prince Frederick's style, but even then it didn't quite make sense to Elsa. There were many details she was no doubt missing out on; she'd have to ask Minister Henrik if he had any ideas.

"I knew your meeting with him the other day didn't go well," said Anna, "but I can't believe you didn't tell me that he proposed. Again."

"It didn't seem important at the time," Elsa said evasively. "Besides, it's not like I plan on saying yes." Whatever other offers she might receive, the mere thought of spending her life with Christian Frederick was making her breakfast taste like sawdust. Elsa was convinced that this was one instance where the devil she knew couldn't possibly be better than the devil she didn't.

"Yeah, but you know what I told you about any more proposals, Elsa," her sister said, in a voice flat and deadly serious. "Frilly. Pink. Dress."

That mental image was enough to lift the queen's spirits a bit. "For the sake of the kingdom's foreign relations, I can't promise to help." She smiled. "But I can promise not to warn him."

"Good enough for me," said Anna. Her own smile was devious as she bit an apple slice in half with a crunch.

Kristoff was looking at the golden fruit with longing. "You got the last one, didn't you?"

Anna's smile turned sheepish as she nodded. On the southern coast of Norway, fresh fruit was not easy to come by in mid-April. It had only just become warm enough to think about planting the first gardens of the new year, and the castle's greenhouse was only large enough for the bare necessities when it came to keeping the royal family fed over the winter. The grocers' stalls in the market square would have precious little of anything fresh-grown and local for a while yet.

There was one good thing to come from the opening of the sea lanes, however. "There's a ship due in port tomorrow that's supposed to be carrying another load of fresh produce," Elsa said, recalling the latest report from the harbormaster. "Lettuce, tomatoes, apples, grapes… This time, there might even be some oranges from the southern portions of the continent, if we're lucky."

"I haven't had fresh orange juice in months," Anna sighed, as she handed Kristoff a slice she'd cut from the apple. He downed the whole thing in a single bite. "Summer can't get here soon enough."

"You're starting to sound like Olaf," Kristoff said through a mouthful of apple.

"Say what you want, the snowman's not wrong," Anna replied, shrugging. "And at least he has some manners," she added. With an impish smile, she reached out, closing Kristoff's mouth with a tap on his chin.

He swallowed, grinning as a flush spread over his cheeks. "Hey, one thing at a time. I have managed to curb a few bad habits."

"That's true," Anna admitted. "One in particular, which I won't even mention while people are trying to eat."

"I told you," he said with a wink. "All men do it."

"Except you." She winked back.

There was a private joke there that Elsa had not yet gotten the story behind, but she had a more important question to ask her sister first. "So, what did you think of Ambassador Speransky? I noticed he made it through dinner without being forced to wear anything frilly or pink, which is a good sign."

"He's nice," Anna said, guiding her knife with the flat of her thumb to pare another slice off the apple. "A little nervous, maybe. Not used to traveling. He said he hadn't left home for a while."

Elsa considered that. She was not as familiar with the Russian Imperial Court as she would have liked. Speransky had been introduced as an advisor to the tsar, which could have meant anything, as well as a minister of the state council. The title – and the man himself, for that matter – were unknown to her. She wondered if the Russian envoy was someone Minister Henrik was familiar with, and realized that was yet another question she'd have to ask him. She resigned herself to the necessity. The minister would probably be insufferable for days after Elsa came to him like a foolish schoolgirl begging for help with her lessons, but there wasn't anyone else she could ask. At least she hadn't yet needed him to serve as an interpreter. "I suppose we'll find out more soon enough. And I'll need your help to translate when I meet with him."

Anna's face positively lit up with anticipation. "Great! I haven't had a chance to really practice my Russian since the tutor Father hired left when I was fourteen. I don't think he liked it when I started correcting his pronunciation." She shuddered at the memory. "I spent way too long trying to speak Russian with a Scottish accent. Yeesh."

Even during the years of Arendelle's isolation, the king had not stinted his daughters' education. Elsa had grown up with a succession of instructors on mathematics, history, and law; any subjects her father or his councilors couldn't offer her sufficient expertise on, or more often when Elsa's single-minded determination drove her further than what had been expected of her. And while the sisters had stopped sharing lessons after the near-disaster when Elsa had been eight, she knew Anna had been provided with her own tuition. Their father had probably been eager to do all he could to encourage his youngest daughter's favorite subject by bringing in tutors on foreign languages.

"You didn't seem very rusty to me," said Elsa. "I'm just glad the rest of the ambassadors speak French. I'm getting better, but I still feel like I'm talking with wads of cotton in my mouth."

"You sounded fine," Anna assured her. She smirked. "Well, maybe not as smooth as that general guy."

"You mean Marshal Marmont? I take it you were impressed."

"You could say that." Anna sighed. "He was dreamy."

"Hey!" Kristoff protested. "I'm right here."

"Eat your apple slices," Anna said, sliding her plate and the rest of the fruit within his reach. She leaned closer to Elsa, dropping her voice to a stage whisper. "Seriously, though. What're the chances I can get Kristoff dressed in a uniform like that?"

"You do know I can still hear you, right?"

"A French marshal's uniform?" said Elsa. "Not very likely."

Anna did a poor job of masking her disappointment. "Rats."

Elsa gave her sister a small smile. "The color would be all wrong for him, anyway. And it wouldn't match your wedding dress."

"Yeah, I… Wait a second." Anna's eyes narrowed. "There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?"

Elsa leaned back, hiding her growing smile behind a sip of water. "It's a surprise."

Anna rounded on Kristoff. She gave him a simple, direct command. "Spill."

He waved his hands helplessly. "Don't look at me. She made me promise not to tell."

Anna pouted. "Aww. Pretty please?"

Since Elsa had in fact sworn the poor young man to secrecy after their trip to the tailor's, she decided to intervene on his behalf. "Leave him be, Anna. Don't you have a meeting about the final menu for the reception?"

Her sister's eyes flicked to the grandfather clock in the corner of the dining room. "Yikes! You're right. It'll be hard enough figuring out which courses will go together without Gordon yelling at me about being late the whole time." She glanced at Kristoff. "But I can't stand leaving a secret unexplored. Come on, just a hint?"

"None of that, now," Elsa chided. "Kristoff's already late for a meeting of his own."

Anna blinked. "He is?"

Kristoff was similarly confused. "I am?"

"Yes." Elsa put her spoon down in an empty bowl and dabbed her lips with her napkin before standing from the table. "Let's go, Kristoff. I'll come with you to explain why you were late for your first lesson. And you," she said to Anna, already turning to leave, "had better get down to the kitchens. I don't want Chef Ramsay yelling at _me_ because you didn't show up."

Anna's final, halfhearted whine of protest was cut off as the door swung shut behind Elsa. It opened again a moment later, followed by Kristoff's heavy footfalls as he hurried to catch up. "So, uh… did I forget something?"

Elsa gave him a reassuring smile. "I meant to tell you yesterday before things got so hectic. Do you remember what we talked about the other day, before we went to the tailor's?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, if you want to be a prince, there's more to looking the part than a new outfit."

"I figured," he said. "Uh, thank you, by the way." He looked over his shoulder as they entered the hallway that led to the foyer and the spiral staircase, sending a last glance at the door to the dining room as it vanished around a corner. "How'd you know?"

Elsa gave him a questioning look. "Know what?"

He grinned. "That Anna'd be so keen on the outfit."

"Call it a lucky guess." The queen shrugged, the hint of a smile creeping at the corner of her mouth. "And if you think she's excited now, wait until she actually sees you in it."

"I'll take your word for it. I'm pretty sure Sven could turn heads in the getup I'll be in. I'll just do my best not to mess it up."

"Don't worry. That's what you'll be— Minister Henrik?" Just as they left the hallway for the foyer, Elsa was interrupted mid-thought by the sight of her foreign minister emerging from the guest wing at the opposite end of the entrance hall.

"Your Majesty," Henrik called breathlessly. He approached at a brisk pace, though it seemed less that he was hurrying towards them than he was simply hurried in general. "I'm sorry we haven't spoken since last night. The new embassies have kept me occupied."

"That's all right," Elsa assured him, without forgetting the host of questions she had filed into the back of her mind. Even if she hadn't been in the middle of guiding Kristoff to his appointment, any thought of drawing the minister aside for a much-needed conference vanished at the sight of him up-close. Henrik was looking positively harassed; his face was spotty and flushed around the greying edges of his goatee and sideburns. "I hope the ambassadors aren't being unreasonable."

"Oh, nothing I didn't expect," Henrik said. Despite the attempt at nonchalance, his breathing was labored, and his dismissive wave ended up with him dabbing at sweat with a handkerchief. "But with four delegations and half a dozen VIPs, they're certainly keeping me busy. Truth be told, it's a blunt reminder that I'm not as young as I used to be." He smiled wearily. "It will only get worse when the last two delegations arrive. I knew I should've hired an assistant when I had the chance."

Elsa was suddenly aware of – and a little ashamed by – how little time she had actually been spending with her "guests." As stressful as her encounters were, they added up to very little since the whole affair had begun. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

The minister shook his head. "You have enough to consider without dealing with Klemens von Metternich's opinions about the castle's guest quarters. With some help from Archduke Louis, I believe I've convinced Metternich that we're not trying to insult him with the accommodations. He's finally shut up about it, at least."

"He didn't strike me as a man that would be easy to please," Elsa observed.

"Didn't sound like a man who'd be pleased, period," muttered Kristoff.

Henrik actually chuckled at that. "I think you may have the right of it."

"I know the type. 'That block is chipped.' 'You weighed that load wrong.' 'I thought I paid you in advance last time,'" Kristoff said, miming a flapping mouth with his right hand. "Never satisfied and never wrong."

"Guests are much like customers in that way," Henrik agreed. He sighed, reaching up to rub at his right arm below the shoulder. "Honestly, though, for all Metternich's intransigence, the delegation I'm most worried about is the French."

"Why is that?" Elsa asked.

"We'll need to speak about all the ambassadors, Your Majesty, and soon," he said, reminding Elsa of what she already knew. "But Marshal Marmont… that one is no politician. He actually instructed me – ordered me, really – to relegate Talleyrand and his aide to the staff quarters in the basement. Wouldn't even let me finish talking when I suggested giving them one of the rooms in the guest wing."

Elsa frowned. "Well, we did agree to place any assistants there."

Henrik shook his head, in a way that warned Elsa that she was about to be told something her minister thought should be patently obvious. "Charles de Talleyrand is no mere assistant, Your Majesty. He was the preeminent French foreign envoy for the greater part of the past decade. He's negotiated dozens of settlements, including most of the treaties and alliances that have practically doubled France's territory in the imperial era."

"I wondered why the other ambassadors seemed to recognize him," said Elsa. "I'm surprised I hadn't heard of him."

"He fell out of favor with Bonaparte several years ago, even before your parents passed away, and has been fairly quiet since then," Henrik explained. "But that doesn't make Talleyrand any less canny. Or ambitious. I don't know what he's really doing here, or what he's planning, but be very careful with that one."

"I'm being very careful with all of them," Elsa said, not quite annoyed. Henrik meant well, and was obviously working diligently to lighten her burden in ways she hadn't even considered. She couldn't be too hard on him, not when he was forced to play host to the ambassadors Elsa herself could barely stand being in the same room with. "But I will keep an extra eye on Talleyrand," she added, to soothe the minister's worries. "Though perhaps I should speak with Marshal Marmont. I didn't have the chance to during dinner last night."

"Well, try not to lose your head if you do. The maids are fighting over who gets to bring him his meals. Those that haven't already swooned at the sight of him, anyway." Henrik smiled, letting Elsa take the statement as the joke it was meant to be. His expression softened. "You're doing well, Your Majesty. I mean that. And perhaps… perhaps it's something I should say more often."

Elsa returned the smile. "Are you sure _you're_ not feeling a little light-headed from the marshal's presence, Minister?"

"God, I hope not," he laughed. "Though on the bright side, if my wife killed me for that, I'd never have to deal with the infernal stairs up to my office again." He stepped past Elsa and Kristoff, manfully gripping the banister as he started making his way up the spiral staircase. "Good day to you, Your Majesty." He waved his free hand without looking back. "And a foul one to whoever decided to put the administrative offices on the third floor!"

Elsa and Kristoff shared an amused look behind the minister's back, before she gestured him onwards. "This way."

"So where are we going, anyway?"

"Well, when I told you I was going to help you become a prince, I didn't mean just a change of clothes. We're going to the grand ballroom."

Kristoff looked doubtful. "Okay… I know the rehearsal part of the dinner last night kinda got pushed aside, but do you really think that's the kind of help I'll need? Believe it or not, the wedding isn't the part that worries me."

"I know," Elsa said, stopping in front of the tall double doors, one hand resting on each handle. "That's not why we're here." She pulled the doors open.

The grand ballroom was still furnished and decorated just as it had been the previous evening, though now sunlight was streaming through the latticed windows. It gave the room a more relaxed and informal air than the candlelight from the sconces and chandeliers had, as though the space were just another room in the castle. There was one occupant waiting for them inside, standing in the middle of the dancing square at the heart of the parquet floor.

Kristoff raised an eyebrow. "Kai? What're you doing here?"

The chamberlain was standing at rigid attention, heels together smartly and back straight. One arm was placed behind his back, the other held across his chest, wrist cocked at a forty-five degree angle. He surveyed Kristoff down the length of his nose. "I am, or rather I was, waiting patiently upon Her Majesty's arrival."

"I can see that. Why?"

"Because that is the duty I was entrusted with. That, young man, is your first lesson. You are to wait upon a lady, _never_ to make her wait upon you."

Elsa suppressed a smile. "Kai," she said simply. "Play nice."

"Your Majesty, I have a great deal of work to do, and not nearly enough time to do it. Please trust me on this."

"Should I be running away right now?" Kristoff wondered. "Because I suddenly have a really strong urge to get far away from here…"

"Kai will be giving you a bit of a crash course in courtly etiquette and protocol," Elsa explained, deciding to elaborate before her soon-to-be brother-in-law fled the room. "You said you wanted to be able to act like a prince. This is where it starts."

Kristoff frowned. "What, you mean like I'll learn how to bow and stuff?"

Hand still clasped in a loose fist, Kai raised it to his mouth by bending his arm at the elbow. He cleared his throat pointedly. "We'll make it to bowing in the six days we have. If we're lucky. For now, we're going to start with something simpler."

"Like what?" Kristoff asked. One hand on his hip, he scratched the back of his neck with the other, eyeing Kai doubtfully.

The chamberlain looked him up and down. Very, very slowly. Something in the man's expression made Kristoff pause. With a glance at his scratching arm, he snapped it down to his side, chuckling awkwardly.

"Perhaps we'll start with standing," Kai declared, one eyebrow creeping upwards. He turned to Elsa. "I'll take it from here, ma'am. This might not be pretty, but I'll do my best."

Of that, Elsa had no doubt. In his role as chamberlain, Kai was Arendelle's foremost expert on customs and behavior; as the master of ceremonies in addition to head of the castle staff, he had to know exactly how everyone needed to look, where everyone needed to be, and what they needed to do, from Elsa herself on down. If anyone could make a gentleman out of a humble young ice harvester who'd known nothing of life inside a castle until less than a year before, it was Kai.

Nor did she think for an instant that Kristoff would have any real trouble taking the lessons to heart. He might never be a stiff-backed exemplar of formal manners, but he wasn't trying to ape just any average nobleman. That wasn't why he was doing this; he was doing it because he wanted to become a prince worthy of a particular princess. Anna didn't want or need a strutting martinet, but she certainly wouldn't mind a man who could share a waltz, as well as a laugh. Kristoff would see it through.

Kai was doing this for duty, and Kristoff for love. Elsa was humbled by the sight of how powerful a motivator either one could be.

She left them to it.

* * *

><p>...<p>

* * *

><p>Elsa departed the grand ballroom and made her way to the guest residences in the east wing of the castle's first floor. The hall was decorated much like the third floor, with thick carpets, fresh wallpaper, and wood paneling polished to a shine. The oil lamps were all dark, but the sun was streaming through the windows set into the outer wall, giving life to what might otherwise have been a gloomy palette of purple and dull red.<p>

Elsa knew that, beyond the family quarters and the Hall of Portraits, this was the part of the castle that Anna loved best. Perhaps it was the sheer number of nooks and crannies that there were to be explored, but it might also have been the thought that if – or when, as it had happened – the castle returned to life, this was where all the fresh-faced visitors from faraway lands would end up.

Guards were posted outside every room with a dignitary in residence, and each pair of unfamiliar foreign uniforms had a matching duo of green-clad Arendelle guardsmen on the opposite wall. All the men were silent, their eyes fixed forward as the queen walked past. Even though no one was visibly armed, there was a faintly perceptible tension in the hallway all the same. No wonder Minister Henrik had been so eager to escape this place for the comfort of his own office.

Elsa stopped in front of the door that was guarded by a pair of young soldiers in navy blue dolman jackets. Their boots were polished dark leather, beneath blue trousers with gold lace. Their black shakos were also trimmed with gold, and topped with tall red plumes. One of them, wearing a sergeant's stripes on his upper arm, gave her a nod. "Majesty."

"I'd like to speak to Marshal Marmont, if he's available," Elsa said. There was no sense in being demanding or presumptuous; it cost her nothing to be polite.

"A moment," the sergeant replied. He knocked, waiting for a muffled acknowledgement before cracking open the door and leaning inside to relay the request. Elsa couldn't quite make out the reply, but the soldier pushed the door open the rest of the way and gestured her inside.

"Your Majesty," one of the Arendelle men said from behind her, "perhaps we should accompany you?"

Elsa turned, catching a fleeting glimpse of an offended scowl on the French sergeant's face. She fixed the man who'd spoken in place with a cool look. "That won't be necessary. And please don't suggest that I should fear for my safety from a man staying in one of my own guest rooms."

The guard's face flushed at the mild rebuke, and he managed to stand a little straighter. "Apologies, Your Majesty."

Elsa nodded, and stepped through the door.

Each of the guest quarters in the east wing was divided into two separate rooms. The bedchambers themselves were kept private by a set of ornate sliding doors, which could be opened wide to permit sunlight and fresh breeze from the windows in the bedrooms, set against the castle's rear exterior wall. The sliding doors in this room were closed, and Elsa stood in the small but comfortable sitting room and study. There was a fireplace on one side, with a couch and two chairs set around it, and on the opposite wall was a single chair and writing desk, flanked by a pair of wall-mounted lamps.

General Auguste de Marmont had been sitting at the desk. He stood as the queen entered, setting aside a curiously small writing instrument. It appeared to be a fountain pen, a novel new invention Elsa had read about, but never seen for herself. She subsumed her curiosity as the marshal bowed. "Your Majesty. This is an unexpected pleasure."

In welcoming him the previous evening, Elsa had noticed little about the man besides his striking uniform and how inferior he made her feel in the grasp of the French language. Now, she had far less occupying her thoughts. Marmont was tall, perhaps a shade over six feet, and made taller by both a thick sweep of dark brown hair and his bearing. He stood with the confidence of a veteran soldier, which only served to enhance his handsome features. It wouldn't be surprising if the maids really were fighting for the right to bring his meals, as Minister Henrik had jested.

"Marshal," Elsa said, repaying his bow with a polite nod. "Thank you for seeing me."

"No need to thank me. This is your home, after all." Marmont smiled. It was a friendly sort of expression, honest without quite reaching his eyes. "What can I do for you?"

"I was hoping we could speak. We didn't have a chance to get beyond introductions yesterday evening."

"Yes, it was rather hectic. I wasn't expecting this mission to be so dramatic quite so quickly," he said, shrugging as he clasped his hands behind his back. "I hope you weren't offended by our late arrival."

"Not at all. It's not like any of us has a say in which way the wind blows," Elsa said. She glanced at the chairs in front of the fireplace. "May we sit?"

"Oh, yes, of course." Marmont shook his head, holding out a hand to offer her a seat. "Sorry. A decade of drill revues and meetings in field tents has left my manners a bit rusty, which made my last few months back in Paris society something of a shock. I'm lucky I remembered to stand when you came in."

"I'm not that easily offended," Elsa assured him, taking the chair nearest the door to the hallway. "I'm sure you're aware that Arendelle hasn't had many guests in the past few years."

"Yes," Marmont said, nodding as he lowered himself into the opposite chair. The seats were angled towards the darkened fireplace, allowing them to face one another with the couch providing a comfortable space in between. "The French foreign minister provided me with a briefing on your kingdom. I'm not ashamed to admit I'd never heard of Arendelle before he called me into his office last October."

"You're not alone in that," Elsa said, thinking back to the pile of letters still sitting in Minister Henrik's office. "For my part, I'm not ashamed to admit that I never expected to have a conversation with a Marshal of the French Empire."

"Don't be too impressed," said Marmont. He leaned back into his chair with a casual wave. "There are twenty-three of us, by my last count, and I am senior to only two of them. Don't mistake me; it's an honor to carry the baton, but not quite as exclusive as you make it sound."

Elsa was surprised at the tone of the conversation. In spite of Marmont's martial bearing, there was something unpretentious in his manner. He seemed honestly humble for one who had risen so high. "Well, junior marshal or not, you're an ambassador to Arendelle, and a welcome guest."

"Indeed." Marmont shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. Between the confrontation before dinner last night, and now this meeting, I find myself at a loss."

"How so?"

"I'm a soldier, and the son of a soldier. When I enter a discussion, it's typically about strategy, tactics, or an enemy on the battlefield and how to defeat him. Sitting down across from them and having a conversation is not something I'm used to."

Elsa blinked. "I hope you don't regard me as an enemy, General. I thought that was why we were talking."

Marmont winced. "That made a lot more sense before I said it. I meant only that I'm not a diplomat, Your Majesty. My usual role in international affairs comes well after discussions like this one." He gave her a self-deprecating smile. "Not because of them, which is the result I seem to be blundering toward."

"I understand," Elsa said. And she did, in more ways than one. It was strange, but she had finally found someone even less experienced and prepared to deal with diplomacy than she herself had been. "I suppose that's why Mr. Talleyrand accompanied you, isn't it?"

Marmont's expression darkened. "I'd sooner take advice from my horse."

The antipathy between the marshal and his advisor had been apparent even to Elsa the night before, and Henrik's news that the general had relegated his designated assistant to the staff quarters in the basement had only reinforced that impression. Even so, she was still taken aback by the intensity of Marmont's reaction up close; he made no effort to hide just how little he cared for Talleyrand. "Then why is he here?" she wondered.

The marshal scowled as he spoke. "Bernard Maret, the French Foreign Minister, was insistent that I have an experienced diplomat along to provide counsel. A good enough idea, but Talleyrand was the politician's choice. Maret saw only the intelligence and the resume, and expected me to ignore the fact that I was standing in the room when the emperor himself referred to Talleyrand as, if you'll pardon my language, 'a shit in silk stockings.' Personally, I believe that characterization is being uncharitable to manure, which has any number of practical uses.

"I have no tolerance for cowards, Your Majesty, so I won't withhold the truth from you to spare another man's nonexistent honor. I was in Paris, recovering from wounds taken in battle, when Maret approached me about this undertaking. Perhaps he thought that a soldier's perspective was necessary for the mission, but it was all too clear that the man was unwilling to make the journey to see you himself."

Elsa very much doubted that this was quite the negotiating tactic the French had in mind when they sent their embassy to Arendelle. To her surprise, the implications of the statement were actually less worrisome than its bluntness was refreshing. "It's not my intention for anyone to be afraid of me," she said, almost amazed at the calmness of her own voice. Perhaps she really was getting used to the idea that strangers were fearful of her; that was an unsettling thought. "And I certainly don't want anyone thinking they should be."

Marmont stood from his chair, leaving the sitting area to place himself beside the writing table in three long, slow strides. Elsa turned in her seat, and saw the marshal bent over the desk, leaning lightly on the polished wood with his hands braced on opposite corners. From her angle, she could see his eyes darting back and forth over the paper set atop the desk. "I find myself with an uncomfortable dilemma," Marmont said. He gave a long pause, and the queen waited patiently for him to continue. "All military commanders know we don't always have the luxury of being given missions where success is assured. A Marshal of the Empire can be asked for even more than that."

The general lapsed into another silence, while Elsa tried to puzzle out his meaning. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you're trying to tell me," she said.

Marmont pushed off the desk to stand upright, his right hand sweeping across the surface as he rose. He turned back to Elsa, turning the pen between his fingers at chest height as he examined it. "My expertise within the army is artillery," he began. Elsa blinked at the non sequitur, but waited for him to continue. "The physical effect of a barrage can be devastating, but the true power of cannon lies in demoralization. To strike at an enemy from afar, when he has no recourse, is the most effective means of instilling fear. By the time the ranks close, the side with more effective artillery will have already pushed their foes to the breaking point."

His eyes left the curio clasped in his fingers to fix on her instead. "Your Majesty, I think the two of us have very different definitions of fear. It has been my purpose to instill it, to harness it. As cruel as that sounds, in a strange way it really means _saving_ lives; every man who throws down his weapon and flees is one less killed when the bayonets are fixed and the butcher's work begins. I wield fear on the battlefield, but it's the kind of fear that sends a child scurrying to his parents' bedroom when a clash of thunder wakes them in the night. Not the kind of storybook legend about witches and magic you tell to make them mind their manners or eat their vegetables."

Elsa sank into the cushions of her chair with a sigh. It wasn't hard to guess what the marshal was referring to with that analogy. "Honestly, General Marmont, they sound like the same thing to me. And even if there was a difference, I still don't want any part of it. I have no more desire to inflict terror on the battlefield than I do to be thought of as an evil sorceress that turns misbehaving children into blocks of ice."

"And I have no reason to doubt your sincerity," Marmont replied. "I've spoken at length with Joseph Ducos, a man who was here for your coronation."

"I remember him," said Elsa. "He and his wife were very charming, and he was kind enough to escort a foreign prince back to his homeland on my behalf." It had saved Elsa a great deal of stress, as well as forestalled a diplomatic incident, not to have to deal with Hans herself. No matter how heinous his crime, punishing a member of foreign royalty was tricky business. Banishment, swiftly imposed with the help of a third party, had been the most effective recourse.

"So he told me. He had a great deal more to say, though, and that is how I know better than most just what your powers are capable of. Nor did I discount what I heard from Ducos about you personally, Your Majesty, and I've seen nothing to convince me his impressions were wrong. But while the fact remains that I was sent to your kingdom on a mission vital – perhaps even essential – to the French Empire, very few avenues to success are open to me."

Elsa's eyes narrowed fractionally. "Just what exactly would you define as 'success'?"

"The answer to that is simple, at least for me. I want nothing more than to see the empire safe and secure." Idly, he began tapping the fountain pen against his palm. "But as I said, more is asked of a marshal than a common soldier in the ranks. Sometimes, a greater goal can only be achieved at our expense."

"I understand that much, General. We're all willing to sacrifice a great deal for the things we most care about." Elsa herself would never have allowed the ambassadors to set foot in Arendelle if not for the threat their countries could pose to her people. As she was learning firsthand, politics was its own kind of battlefield, but as lethal as words could be, it was one less directly hazardous than the struggles the general was used to. The analogy struck the queen as especially odd when considering that Marmont had said he'd been wounded in action. The question then was just what the general thought he would have to sacrifice to achieve his goal here. As she pondered that, Elsa's attention drifted, drawn to the motion of the pen as it waved back and forth in the general's hand like a wand.

Marmont noticed her gaze. "This was a gift from my friend, the emperor, on the fifteenth anniversary of our meeting," he explained. "It's shocking, how time passes. It seems only yesterday that I was first appointed his aide-de-camp." He held the pen up for her to see; it was shaped like a simple pencil, but made of solid metal, its edge tipped and silvery sharp. "I was drafting a letter to Napoleon when you stopped by."

"Already? You only just arrived." If he and the emperor were such friends, it might have been a personal letter, but that was not the impression Elsa had gotten from the general's tone.

"I'm afraid that's all the time it took to realize that my mission as originally defined has little chance of success." He dropped the pen back on the table with a metallic click. "There's not much hope of a prompt reply, but I have no other choice."

"I'm confused," said Elsa. A part of her was trying to reconcile the general's words in terms of some kind of diplomatic tactic or ploy. But all evidence was that the man was being perfectly honest with her, no matter how poorly she understood what he was saying. "We hadn't even spoken, and you'd already given up?"

"More like I knew from the beginning that this expedition was doomed to tragedy, but had no way of convincing anyone until I could say I'd spoken to you myself. I was one of the few who bothered to pay any attention to what Ducos was saying about you, Your Majesty. I knew then that you were not some new weapon we'd just discovered. It was not going to be a simple matter of anchoring you on a hill and aiming you like a battery." Marmont left the writing desk, returning to the chair across from her. He sat on its very edge, perched with his elbows resting on his knees.

"I know better than most that fear makes men do strange things. When word of what you could do began to spread through the diplomatic corps and the general staff, I watched it unfold like a perfectly-sighted canister round landing in the midst of a regiment. They forget their training, abandon reason for impulse. Even after the shock wears off, they fight when they should maneuver, or run when they should fight. Or, in your case, they send a soldier to treat with a queen."

Elsa favored Marmont with a sad smile. The mindset he described was not unexpected. In fact, it was almost precisely one of the scenarios she and Minister Henrik had first envisioned. "You seem to be handling yourself quite capably, General. I have my hands full with diplomats; your honesty is refreshing."

"It's kind of you to say so, but I'm afraid I'm not quite done being honest." Marmont loosed a weary sigh, resting his chin upon his clasped hands. "I was sent to Arendelle like any general dispatched with orders: presented with an objective, and told what resources were at my disposal to achieve it. In this instance, I was told to secure your cooperation, and given a set of incentives to negotiate with."

"You certainly phrase things differently than the other ambassadors would, but I'm sure you can see that the principle is essentially the same," Elsa observed. "Denmark and Austria have made their offers, just as I'm sure you will."

"Yes, but their representatives are politicians, capable of adapting if their offers fail to entice you."

"Really, General, there's no need to act so modest. If you're worried about negotiating, I'm not exactly much of a haggler, myself." It might have been foolish to say so, or even risked looking like she was bluffing, but Elsa felt compelled to repay this man's honesty by being honest in her turn. It really would be hard enough choosing among the nations vying for her favor, to the point where the prospect of bartering over details once the choice was made left her exhausted by the mere thought.

"You don't understand," Marmont said, shaking his head. "It's not that I'm worried about making a bad deal. It's that I'm under strict orders in terms of what I'm authorized to offer you. What's more, I'm fairly certain what I have will be of little interest to you."

Elsa blinked. "Oh."

"You begin to see the dilemma I mentioned. And unless both Ducos and I have drastically misunderstood Your Majesty's character, I'd really rather not insult you by saying what the French Empire thinks your willing cooperation is worth."

She couldn't quite sublimate a sniff of laughter at that. "General, your frankness alone has been a pleasure that outweighs any insult your offer might present. To prove it, I'll let you in on a secret: If you plan to propose marriage, you might want to avoid my sister if you mean to keep your dignity intact. I don't imagine you would look very good in a frilly pink dress."

Marmont's expression remained dour. "If only that were the case. It was debated at length whether to offer you a betrothal to François, Napoleon's infant son and the Prince Imperial, but dismissed as impractical given how long it would be before a marriage could be consummated. There was even some speculation about a potential union with the emperor himself, but at the time there was still hope we might retain Austria's allegiance, so any thoughts of a divorce from the current Empress were deemed too incendiary. In the end, what I was authorized to present to you doesn't involve a marriage at all."

Even if she was still a bit dizzy attempting to process the potential for either betrothing herself to a two-year-old or becoming the third wife of the notorious Emperor of France, Elsa managed to muster a small amount of curiosity for what Marmont was saying. When compared to what Prince Frederick and Minister Metternich had given her, an offer without marriage at least had the potential for novelty. "There's no need to keep me in suspense, General," Elsa said, even though she was quietly grateful for the pregnant pause that allowed her to collect her thoughts.

Marmont took a deep, nervous breath, and seemed unwilling to meet her gaze. Elsa was incongruously reminded of Kristoff in the moments before his proposal to Anna; in that instant, she was grateful Marmont had explicitly said no marriage proposal was forthcoming. "On behalf of His Imperial Majesty," the marshal said at last, "France is prepared to offer Arendelle inclusion as a full client state in the Empire."

Elsa's face remained blank. That hardly seemed worth all the fuss. In fact, it hardly seemed like an offer at all. What, precisely, would be to Arendelle's benefit in that arrangement? She didn't have time to explore that train of thought any further before the marshal took another breath, squaring his shoulders like a man facing a firing squad. It seemed there was yet more to come.

"In addition, to signify this alliance, the emperor plans to formally adopt you into his family. You would retain your rights as Queen of Arendelle, be granted the additional title of Princess Imperial, and placed in the line of succession behind the emperor's son. As well as any future sons that might be born to him, per imperial laws of inheritance. That would make you third in line, at present."

She blinked. The silence stretched, and Marmont grew visibly nervous. Elsa's face remained impassive, seemingly from sheer inertia. At length, all she managed to say was a short, flat, "What?"

"You see now why I wasn't optimistic about your interest in our offer," Marmont said dryly. "I don't think anything registered with Maret beyond the fact that you are a young woman, tragically orphaned and newly-crowned, with abilities that would be quite useful when bound to the French Empire by ties of family." The general shook his head, slumping on his perch at the edge of his seat. "I argued against it, as did Ducos. But the emperor was too preoccupied, first with the disaster in Russia, then with restoring the Grande Armée, and eventually it was too late. Without his voice, Maret's foolishness had already won the day."

The queen rose stiffly to her feet, and Marmont followed, still looking regretful. "Thank you for your honesty, General," Elsa managed, her voice tight. "But I regret to say that your offer has little appeal to me." Not trusting her composure to hold for much longer, and not wanting to snap at a man who had tried very earnestly to warn her of how little she would like what he had to say, Elsa made her way towards the exit. "I had a father. I still love him, in spite of his absence. I don't want, or need, a replacement."

The marshal made no attempt to argue with that. He was silent until she reached the door. "Your Majesty," he called. His voice was soft and resigned.

"Yes, General?" She stopped, one hand upon the doorknob, but did not turn to face him.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," he told her sadly. Another silence descended. She was just about to leave when he spoke again.

His voice was different, so much so that if Elsa didn't know better, she'd have thought another man had entered the room. It was the voice of a warrior. The sound of death from an untouchable distance, implacably hard and cold. "I am a Marshal of the Empire, and my duty is to France. This is a battle I cannot afford to lose. Before I leave, I will have your cooperation, one way or another."


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Headwinds

**Frozen is the property of Disney.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER THIRTEEN<strong>

**Headwinds**

Marshal Marmont's parting words echoed in the back of Elsa's mind for the rest of that day, like an aggravating noise at the edge of her hearing. She pushed them aside to listen to Anna tell her about all the wonderful dishes that would be served at the wedding feast. She ignored them in favor of a report from Kai on Kristoff's impressive progress after just a few hours of instruction on the arts of being a gentleman. They were even briefly drowned out by a visit from Olaf, who snuck in through a window as she read through a stack of petitions by candlelight before resigning herself to bed.

As she slept, even her dreams remained restless. She roamed the castle like a ghost, seeing the hallways in fleeting glimpses, touring closed doors and darkened windows accompanied only by the quiet stillness of midnight. She awoke the next morning unsettled and edgy. Eager to busy herself with the tasks of the day, the queen was dressed and in her study while the sun was still just a red-orange splash upon the eastern horizon.

Distraction, however, proved to be more elusive than Elsa expected. Her study had been reclaimed from the uncharacteristic mess of the previous weeks. Her correspondence was caught up. Even the petitions from the night before were now all read and signed, well ahead of the next open court to be held at the beginning of May, where the citizens whose appeals had reached the queen's desk would present their cases for her adjudication.

Anna had begged out of their usual breakfast, as she was taking a trip into town with Seraphim; something about a last-minute meeting of the minds regarding the bridesmaids' dresses. Kristoff had wholeheartedly thrown himself at Kai's tender mercies, engaging the chamberlain for a marathon lesson while Anna was out of the castle. They'd even shanghaied Gerda for the occasion, as apparently Kristoff was already making headway – at his own insistence – into the realm of dance steps. Elsa had to admire his persistence. She also had to trust that Kai would have Kristoff ready for the ceremony she had in mind prior to the wedding, but it was out of her control now.

In short, Elsa was left with very little to do. She knew she would have to meet with Minister Henrik at some point, which would almost certainly put an end to the fledgling confidence the minister had expressed in her the previous day. That was not a task for the first thing in the morning. A halfhearted attempt at scrutinizing the ledgers for the new copper mine in the eastern foothills proved incapable of holding her attention, and so Elsa found herself standing in front of the glass-paned doors that opened onto her private balcony. She was staring off into space, not even seeing her own reflection until she registered the look of surprise looking back at her at the unexpected sound of knocking upon the door to her chambers.

Curious, Elsa went to answer the door herself. The surprise became pleasant when she saw Prince Uriel standing outside.

"Your Majesty," he greeted, giving her a slight bow. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Nothing that couldn't use a little interruption," Elsa replied, smiling for what felt like the first time that day. "Please, come in."

"Thank you." He glanced around as he stepped inside, taking in the surroundings. The queen's chambers on the second floor were actually three rooms in one, set against the castle's west wall. The two of them stood in the parlor, which served as either a sitting room or an informal audience chamber. There were two sets of sliding doors, much like those in the guest rooms on the floor below, one to either side. The doors to the left, which led to Elsa's bedchamber, dressing room, and bathroom, were closed. The doors to the right, leading back into her study, stood open.

Over the winter, the chambers had been decorated and furnished to Elsa's taste. They had stood untouched for more than three years prior to that, and the only way for Elsa to bring herself to take up residence in the rooms that she could only ever remember belonging to her parents had been to start over from scratch. The carpet was a shade of greyish-white, like a blanket of fresh snow. The waist-high baseboards were white plaster trimmed with gold. The walls were papered and painted in royal blue, patterned with faint sapphire stenciling: the crocus flower of the kingdom's royal crest. The colors might have made the room seem dark, if not for the tall banks of windows throughout the chambers. They allowed for plenty of sunlight to get in, and a high, cloudless blue sky ensured there was no shortage of sunlight to be had.

Uriel turned in place, admiring the rooms. "This place suits you."

"You should have seen it a week ago," Elsa said, leading him into the study. "You'd have had to take me at my word that I had a desk under all the mess."

"Somehow I can't picture you being disorganized," the Black Prince replied, "so I'll have to take your word on it anyway." Uriel was, as always, dressed to earn his nom de guerre. His dark trousers and tall boots shone against the baseboards, while the rest of him nearly vanished into the backdrop of the walls. The winter-paled skin of his face seemed to float into the room.

"What brought you by?" Elsa wondered.

"Your sister and mine cornered me before setting out to right all the wrongs in the world of fashion. They seemed to be under the impression that you could use some company this morning." He gave her a lopsided smile. "To be fair, it didn't take a great deal of convincing."

It was then that Elsa noticed the checkered surface of a chessboard tucked beneath his right arm. "I see you came prepared."

Pinning two corners of the wooden plane between his palms, Uriel spun the board with a flick of his wrists. "This way, you can keep me nattering on about chess metaphors, if you like. I thought it better than the alternative, which would be me rambling about everything else."

"I think a bit of rambling is just what I need at the moment," Elsa decided. To spend a while talking about nothing would be a welcome change, after days where it felt like the fate of the world seemed to rest on every conversation.

"Be careful what you wish for," cautioned Uriel. "And be sure to stop me at the first signs of boredom. If you start feeling drowsy, it might already be too late."

Elsa moved behind her desk, pulling her chair from behind to set it sideways against the corner. She sat down, absently smoothing out the wrinkles along the arms of her grey velvet blouse and the hem of her dark blue skirt. "Oh, sit down and set up the board already," she commanded, pointing to the empty chair set against the side of the desk nearest her. "You're here, and by now I've heard enough about just how bad you are at this game that I'm actually curious. You're not getting out of this so easily, Your Highness," she added with a smirk.

"That's good," said Uriel, taking the offered seat. "After all, this is where I reveal that I'm actually a secret grandmaster at chess and impress you with my keen insights." He set the board down between them on the corner of the desk.

"Did you forget something?" Elsa wondered, raising an eyebrow. "Or do secret grandmasters not need pieces to play the game?"

Uriel leaned forward a bit, laying his left hand flat across his half of the board. "No. I just had a better idea." The smile he gave her at that moment cleared her mind of all distraction. His grey eyes glittered, and Elsa realized it was not a trick of the sunlight. A soft glow emanated from beneath his palm, and the prince slowly lifted his hand to reveal two rows of chessmen where none had been the moment before. Tiny sprites of white-gold light were arrayed on his side of the board. Luminous embers, not in the simple, familiar shapes of pawns or rooks or bishops, but rather a rank of glowing riflemen, backed by pairs of real mounted knights, priests in tall miters, even a king and queen with shining scepters no bigger than matchsticks.

Elsa gasped when she saw them moving. She bent down, her chin almost resting on her side of the board, and stifled a giggle as the light-forged pawns brandished their rifles. She reached out with a finger, and watched the chessmen recoil, shaking their fists at her in silent remonstration. Elsa glanced up to see Uriel still smiling at her, the light in his eyes flickering out as they returned to their familiar storm-grey.

Elsa hesitated, a glimmer of doubt drawing her brows together. "Are they…?"

"Just light," Uriel assured her, "and a bit of puppeteering on my part. Creations like your charming friend Olaf are a bit beyond me."

She nodded, straightening in her chair as she placed her own left hand down flat upon her side of the board. Elsa's eyes drifted shut as she fixed an idea firmly in her mind. She took a slow, deep breath, inhaling the familiar aroma of her chambers: mint and cool winter breeze. Her nostrils twitched at the springy hint of lilac in the air, but she cast that thought aside as she felt her power respond. A whisper of cool air tickled the skin beneath the sleeve of her blouse as she raised her palm, accompanied by a faint crackle of ice as the magic flowed from her hand.

Elsa opened her eyes to survey her handiwork. A row of miniature Arendelle guardsmen stood at the head of her side of the board, a rank of figurines in ice as clear and pure as glass. Looking closely, she could even make out the faint bumps she'd pictured on the shakos, just like the kingdom's crest emblazoned on the caps of her living guardsmen. The back row was just as impressive. The rooks looked like the tallest spire of the castle, adorned with a single snowflake as it had been during the skating party at her winter's end. The bishops looked like finger-height versions of Bishop William, right down to the cleric's long beak of a nose. The knights were two tiny Svens, mounted by two even tinier Kristoffs wearing comically serious expressions on their faces, swords clasped in their right hands. The king was her father as he appeared in his coronation portrait, clasping the royal scepter and orb writ small. The queen was Elsa herself, the tiny braid over her left shoulder almost stunningly detailed, ice dress and train rippling as they caught they light. She smiled with satisfaction as she surveyed her force of chessmen. They would do nicely.

"Beautiful," Uriel breathed. Elsa glanced up, seeing the prince's eyes dart down to the board. "Beautiful and impressive," he said. "And frankly, almost unfair. I'll be sad to see any of those pieces go."

"They're solid ice, too," Elsa observed. She shot him a pointed look. "I don't want to catch any of your pieces mysteriously changing when you start to lose."

Uriel's jaw dropped open in an expression of mock hurt. "Never, Your Majesty. On my honor as a gentleman, I'd sooner throw myself from your balcony than be caught cheating."

"I'll hold you to that, mister sunshine."

Uriel chuckled. "That's a nickname I'd rather not hear outside this room. I've worked so hard at the 'Black Prince' thing, it would only serve to confuse people." He grinned. "Your move. As I taught you the other day, white moves first."

"And I remember telling you then that I'm well aware of the rules," Elsa replied, reaching out to move a pawn forward.

"So you did." Uriel sat back in his chair, expression turning smug as one of his pawns marched up two squares of its own volition.

For a moment, Elsa's mouth dropped open in surprise. Then she smirked, looking at Uriel through her eyelashes. "Showoff." A second pawn advanced with her aid.

"Guilty as charged." Another piece moved on its own. "Though I wonder what Kristoff would think if he knew you'd conscripted him into the game."

She shrugged, advancing one of her aforementioned knights. "Consider yourself lucky that I didn't make Anna my queen. I'm pretty sure that piece would be practically unstoppable."

"A fair point. But I suppose you're going to tell me the form you chose isn't still meant to be some kind of a distraction?"

"A distraction?" Elsa said, arching one eyebrow upwards. She slid one of her bishops across the board to claim one of the prince's pawns. It disappeared like a snuffed candle, the first casualty of their match vanishing with a flicker. "Don't you mean symbolic?"

He repaid her raised eyebrow with one of his own. "Not at all. Unless you think there's hidden meaning in a chess piece wearing a sheer dress with a slit in the leg." He grinned as one of his rooks silently glided forward to take her bishop. The ice evaporated with a sibilant puff of vapor. "The attention to detail is impressive."

Elsa felt a bit of heat rising to her cheeks. To hide it, she bent her head over the board, studying for a long moment before moving one of her pawns to threaten his rook. Despite – or perhaps because of – her momentary embarrassment, she was taken by a sudden boldness. "I'd think it'd take a lot more than a skirt to distract you. As I recall, you've seen me in a much more compromising state."

Elsa was rewarded when it was the Black Prince's turn to blush. The shot struck home: a reminder of their first meeting, when she had awakened in a ramshackle cabin wearing nothing but a bedsheet. Uriel had found her a short time earlier, after an attack in a quarry near his home city of Kristensand. She'd been hurt badly in the ambush, and the ice of her dress had consumed itself trying in vain to staunch her wounds. Uriel's healing had saved her life then, but she tried not to dwell on that thought. Now, almost a year later, it was something to look back on with a sense of relief, like a half-forgotten nightmare.

Even so, the prince's embarrassment quickly turned to somber concern. "Does the wound trouble you?" he asked.

In spite of herself, a phantom of memory flashed through Elsa's mind. Her left hand drifted absently across the bodice of her dress, above the spot in her stomach where the knife… She shook her head, pushing the thought away with sheer will. "Not at all," she said, grounding herself back in reality. "There's not even a scar."

Uriel nodded mutely. He flicked a finger, and one of his bishops strolled diagonally across the chessboard, but his heart no longer seemed to be in the game.

"I'm sorry," Elsa said. "I wasn't thinking, to bring something like that up. I really am fine."

"No, it's alright," Uriel muttered. "I just…" His voice trailed off. The look in his eyes was haunted.

There was more to this than what had happened to her, Elsa realized. "What is it?" she asked gently.

"Something I'd forgotten. Or perhaps something that I hadn't wanted to remember," the Black Prince said, arms crossing over his chest. He was staring at the chessboard, though Elsa could tell he wasn't really looking at it. "Princess Anna showed me to your Hall of Portraits a few days ago, and she was kind enough to introduce me to all her old friends there. I was a bit surprised to find my mother among them."

Twenty years prior, Elsa's grandfather, King Magnus, had remarried after Elsa's grandmother passed away. The new queen had brought a teenaged daughter, Helena, with her into the family. As a step-sister to Elsa's father, Helena had lived in Arendelle for a time, before leaving to marry the then-Duke of Kristensand: Christian, Uriel's father.

"I've seen her picture there," Elsa said, her voice tinged with sympathy. "She was beautiful. And her dress was lovely."

Uriel nodded. "I remember so little of her, but I've never forgotten that she loved to wear blue. You remind me a bit of her, in that way." He swallowed thickly. "I don't think I ever told you how she died."

"No," she admitted. "I heard it was an accident."

"Yes. She fell from her horse," Uriel began. "My father had been teaching me to ride, and I'd just gotten my first pony. It was my fifth birthday. We went out for a ride on the beach to celebrate… it was such a beautiful day. Something spooked Mother's horse as we were riding through the shoals, and she was thrown. Wet sand isn't all that soft," he explained, voice soft with regret. "She landed hard, and hit her head."

Elsa hadn't realized he'd been there when it happened. "I'm so sorry."

Uriel didn't seem to hear her. "I'd only just started learning how to use my powers, but even then I knew how to heal. Before I could make light or heat, my touch had been able to relieve pain and mend small wounds. After she fell, there was a bit of blood from a cut. Some bruises on her neck. I was a child, with a child's understanding. I healed what I saw was wrong, and she seemed fine. We headed back to the castle." He shook his head numbly. "Mother had spent the whole morning pointing out the sights to me. Counting dolphins in the breakers, quizzing me about the kinds of rocks and the species of birds. But she was so quiet on the ride back. I remember how much that worried me."

Elsa sat there listening. She had no words to offer him, even as she dreaded what came next.

"By the time we were home, she was complaining of a headache, and was tired and dizzy," Uriel said. "She fell asleep in her favorite armchair by the window. She never woke up."

The prince was still staring through the chessboard, his left arm lying on her desk. His eyes were vacant. Elsa leaned forward, placing her hand atop Uriel's. "Magic or no magic, there was nothing you could do. You were only five. You couldn't have known."

His gaze fixed upon her hand for a moment, before finally meeting her eyes. "I know I'm not a god; I can't heal myself, or old age, or disease. But to watch her slip away from a bump on the head… A part of me has never trusted my magic ever since."

That was probably what had made it so easy for Uriel to believe that the drought that had plagued Kristensand in years past had been his doing, Elsa thought. She also realized then why she had worried him with the idle comment about her own wound. "You saved my life with your magic," she said firmly, giving his wrist a squeeze. "I'm still here, and I'm fine. Thanks to you."

The prince let out a long, slow breath. "You're right, of course," he said, nodding firmly. "I didn't mean to become so maudlin. Where were we?"

He seemed determined to be cheerful, and Elsa felt it best not to belittle his efforts. "I believe you were poking fun at the design of my chessmen."

"Ah, yes." He leaned forward, planting an elbow on her desk and cradling his chin with his hand. His fingers brushed idly across the burn scars covering his cheek and the right side of his jaw as he surveyed the board. "Perhaps I should start taking this more seriously," he decided. A knight charged forward, vanquishing one of her pawns in a puff of steam.

Elsa smiled as she picked up one of her rooks, dragging it across the board and squashing the gallant attacker even as his horse reared in celebration.

Uriel frowned, staring at the spot where his knight had been enjoying its moment of triumph. "I meant to do that."

"Who am I to argue with a secret grandmaster?"

He glanced up. "You're quite the witticist today, Your Majesty."

Elsa shrugged. "I finally seem to have met an opponent I can beat." As if to emphasize the point, she moved her rook back across the board, snuffing out a pawn the prince had just moved. "I suppose that puts me in a good mood."

"Happy to be of service," he muttered. He blew out a breath, and his second knight moved into the field.

It had barely come to a stop when it was claimed by Elsa's remaining bishop. She frowned suspiciously. "You're not going easy on me, are you?"

Uriel was staring at the board, brows knit. "Your Majesty, I assure you I'm not." One of his rooks moved over to block an advancing pawn. When it was ambushed there by one of Elsa's knights, his mouth twisted with consternation. "There's simply only one way I know how to play chess: badly."

"Perhaps you should stick to the metaphors," Elsa suggested wryly. Then she grew serious. "I never did thank you for your advice the other day."

The Black Prince met her eyes briefly, before returning his focus to the board and his deteriorating strategic position thereupon. "If I managed to be any help at all, then you're quite welcome. Though I don't know how much credit I deserve for pointing out the obvious."

A few moves passed in silence as Elsa formulated a reply to that. "Sometimes the obvious things are the ones we most need to hear," she said at last, her voice quiet.

"That's true," he agreed, as his bishop took one of her pawns. "I don't suppose you have any other problems for me to comment on? Leaky roof? A stocking with a hole in it?"

"I'm afraid my problems are rather more animated," she said. "Though at least I'm making some progress with them." Her rook claimed his bishop.

Uriel leaned back with a sigh. "This is turning into a rout. Have you considered challenging the ambassadors to a winner-take-all chess tournament?"

She managed the thinnest of smiles. "That may end up being my best option at this rate. I've spoken with half of the ambassadors, and I haven't yet been offered anything I actually want."

He looked up, and this time he held her gaze. "Why would you expect anything different?"

"All of the embassies are trying to provide me with some incentive to join their cause," she said, giving him a quizzical look. "Why else would they be making offers?"

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I believe you're looking at it all wrong. Not one of these ambassadors knows a thing about you as a person. They haven't a clue what matters to you, or what you want. If they're smart, the best they can do is play for time, trying to get a sense of you before they make their case."

There was a certain amount of sense in that, Elsa realized. Klemens von Metternich had been goaded into showing his hand early, and it was hard to tell how much the skeptical Austrian cared about wooing her anyway. But Auguste de Marmont had told her how that he had paid close attention to the French envoy who'd been at her coronation, and had openly admitted that he would have made a different proposal if it had been in his power to do so. Most telling, though, was the first ambassador to make an offer. Christian Frederick, whom Elsa considered the canniest politician of those she'd met, hadn't made his play until their second meeting. And when he did, he had tried to manipulate her perceived naïveté and inexperience. Only his overconfidence, combined with her bluff of feigned interest, had revealed his true intentions.

Still, while the realization helped her to understand what had been happening, it was not exactly new information. "The essence of every agreement boils down to knowing what is valuable to the person you're negotiating with," Elsa said. "Of course they'll try and tailor their offers to me if they can."

"No doubt," Uriel agreed. "But if that's true, do you think they're the only ones who should be doing so?"

Elsa blinked. "What do you mean? I already know exactly what _they_ want," she said bitterly. "My magic. Me."

"Is that all, though? I know, just as you do, how our magic would be put to use if these nations held sway over us," Uriel said darkly. "But I said it before: we're not gods. Regardless of how rare or unique our abilities are, we're only human. We've both struggled with ourselves, which proves we're just as flawed and imperfect as anyone else. Do you really think we're able to make the kind of difference in the world that they expect?"

Elsa pondered that. She knew what her magic had been capable of when it had gone out of control. She'd never considered duplicating its effects of her own volition; in fact, having seen firsthand the devastation it could cause, she'd sworn never to try. But while there was no denying the possibility that she could hold sway over a battle, or a fleet at sea, or a city, the world was a very big place. As powerful as her magic could be, she was only one person, and that was never enough. The Emperor of France was living proof: his reputation was almost unprecedented in history, a veritable Alexander reborn. To this day, a force under Napoleon's command had never been defeated in the field. But that hadn't done anything to prevent the catastrophe that befell the French army in Russia.

There was no question Elsa's magic could win battles. But could it win wars? That was not so simple.

"I'm not saying that their desire for your magic isn't a factor," Uriel went on. "Or even that it's not the most important part. But do you think that all of these ambassadors are interested in you solely for your powers?" he asked.

"No," said Elsa, surprising herself at how quickly the answer came to her. Metternich didn't even believe her magic was real. Marmont had implied that Elsa wouldn't be nearly as useful on the battlefield as his superiors believed. Again, the key was Prince Frederick. What he desired was a crown of his own and authority over Denmark-Norway. Elsa herself was simply the guarantor of the bargain, the means to secure success in his personal plot, and her magic was no more than a secondary tool. "No, you're right. They aren't pursuing me for my magic alone."

The Black Prince nodded. "Then I don't have to tell you what you need to do."

"I have to know what they really want. To read between the lines of what they're offering to find out what they want me to do." _Easier said than done_, she thought. Not all the ambassadors would be as forthcoming as Marshal Marmont.

"That makes more sense," the prince agreed. "Far more than taking what they propose to give you at face value. You're worth more than anything they have to offer, Your Majesty."

"It's kind of you to say so," she said mildly, "but we both know the world doesn't work that way."

"Perhaps not," he admitted. "But another thing we both know is that the rules we play by in the real world aren't set in stone. My little sister is a queen regnant, and when I gave up my own birthright to put her in that position, she turned around and used it to make me her chancellor and heir presumptive anyway. Your own sister, a royal princess, is marrying an untitled commoner in less than a week, an act that half the noble families in Europe might well have _disowned_ her for. You've not only blessed the marriage, you've encouraged it, and for no less a reason than you love your sister and Kristoff is a good man who makes her happy." He waved expressively at the game set on the desk between them. "We're not pieces on a chessboard, only permitted to move in certain ways. Every time you step into a room with one of the ambassadors, you have a chance to prove that."

"I was wondering when you'd manage a chess metaphor," she quipped, wishing it was all as simple as he made it sound. She was getting better at dealing with the ambassadors, perhaps; even Minister Henrik admitted that. But if so, it was only because of all the help she was getting. From the minister, from Anna and Seraphim, even from Kristoff. From Uriel himself, for that matter, for all his modesty about stating the obvious. "A charitable observer might say that I'm finally getting my footing when it comes to politics," she granted, "but I'm no match for the men I'm up against. Not on my own."

"You don't mean that," Uriel said, frowning. "Not really."

Elsa crossed her legs and planted her elbow on the edge of the desk, leaning back into the cushions of her chair. "It doesn't matter, does it? Even if I were the savviest diplomat in the world, I'm not negotiating from a position of strength. The smallest nation treating with me is a hundred times the size of Arendelle. The only leverage I have, the only real power my kingdom has at all, stems from my magic."

"You say that as if it wasn't the most valuable piece in play. And even if it weren't, I don't understand why you think you're so outmatched. You have a head start on every one of the ambassadors coming to meet you," Uriel insisted. "You have something you know they want, and you're more than capable of seeing through any scheme they've concocted. Don't play by their rules. Decide what _you_ want, and find out which of them will give it to you."

Elsa shook her head. _He doesn't understand_. "This isn't about me. What I want out of this is the least important part of the equation."

A new expression flashed across the Black Prince's face, a jumble of confusion and something that almost looked like anger. He rose from his chair, half-cape billowing like a black cloud as he whirled away from her. He stopped next to the French doors leading to the balcony, his back to Elsa as he stared out at the courtyard. When he spoke, his voice was strangely disappointed. "Why do you think so little of yourself?"

Elsa fell silent as she looked to her left, out the bay window that stood behind her desk. She had not expected a question like that to come from Uriel. In fact, under the circumstances she would have thought that he was the one person who would be well aware the sacrifices she had decided to make. Hadn't he made the very same choice? As she felt the pang of frustration his words elicited, she realized it was more than that. Elsa hadn't just thought Uriel would understand… she had _hoped_ he would.

Why did she think so little of herself? She was a queen, born and bred to rule her kingdom and protect her people. The only calling she had ever known was the peaceful governance of Arendelle and its citizens. She could have been content with that. But her powers, the magic that the whim of fate had placed within her, made that difficult. Ruling a kingdom, even one as humble as Arendelle, was challenge enough without such… complications. Uriel himself had abdicated in favor of his sister due to the rumors and mistrust borne of magic in Kristensand. There was no room left for ego; the things she wanted out of life could never come first.

Why did she think so little of herself? Because selfishness had nearly led her to disaster. Elsa had spent no small amount of time contemplating what had happened last July. After her powers had been revealed at her coronation ball, thinking of the flight into the mountains still filled her with shame. In a moment of panic, fear, and weakness, she had abandoned her responsibilities, and in so doing had nearly destroyed everything she held dear. Elsa was under no illusions on that count. Arendelle would have been lost, and she would not have been far behind. Given her mindset at the time, Elsa figured there was a better than average chance she would have wasted away within her palace, firmly convinced that starvation was just part of the price she had to pay for the safety of seclusion. Only Anna's incomparable stubbornness and uncompromising love had saved the day.

That wasn't even the worst thing that selfishness could have cost her. The origin of Arendelle's well-intentioned isolation might have come from her parents, but when they met their fate on the voyage across the North Sea, Elsa had been eighteen. Old enough to assert her rights, if not to assume the throne, but a part of her had been all too willing to meekly accept the letter of the law and three years of regency. That same timid, self-centered creature had allowed her sister to bear those weeks and months of grief alone. And even if only the three years since their parents' deaths were laid on Elsa's account, she knew that Anna had forgiven her far too readily. For that, she knew her sister was a better person than she could ever hope to be.

Why did she think so little of herself? She had more reasons than she could count.

It never once occurred to Elsa that that was not the question Uriel had asked.

The silence between them had stretched into a chasm, chess games and politics alike forgotten. There was no telling how long they might have stayed that way if not for a knock upon the door to the queen's chambers.

They both turned toward the sound. Elsa shook herself from her reflections and went to answer it. She stopped at the threshold of the study, struck by a realization. Glancing back, she looked at the chessboard, and its competing sets of frozen and luminous chessmen. One of those would not be remarkable. The other most certainly would. And if whoever was knocking stepped into the sitting room, they would both be clearly visible.

A breath hissed between her teeth as she pointed to the board. Uriel took her meaning at once, and in the blink of an eye, his summoned pieces vanished.

Elsa was at the door a moment later. The knock had come from Adrian, one of the guardsmen of her detail during the morning shift.

"Beg pardon, Your Majesty, a courier just arrived," he said, holding up a small package wrapped in brown canvas and tied with string. "The _Sommerbrise_ made port, and this was marked as a diplomatic parcel."

She frowned, mildly confused. "Diplomatic packages typically go to Minister Henrik," she said.

"Aye, ma'am. No answer at his office, and the door was locked," Adrian explained. "Courier thought it might be important, didn't want to leave it sit."

Elsa thought at once of Henrik's harried state when she and Kristoff had encountered him the previous morning. It was more than likely that the minister was out dealing with some new crisis – real or imagined – in the guest wing. Further reminded that she needed to meet with him anyway, Elsa decided it would be simpler to take the parcel to him herself later than send a guard combing through the corridors now.

"I'll take it, Adrian. Thank you." Shutting the door behind her, Elsa examined the package. It was an oblong box, a little more than a handspan in length, and fairly heavy for its size. She carried it back into the study, reading the note on top of the canvas, written in grease pencil to keep it from being spoiled by water. She blinked in surprise.

"What is it?" asked Uriel.

"That's strange. It's marked as diplomatic, but it's addressed to both Anna and myself."

"Maybe they addressed it to you to make sure it arrived. A crewman with sticky fingers might think twice about a diplomatic parcel marked for a queen. What do you think it is?"

Elsa shrugged. "It's addressed to both of us, so there's no harm in looking." She set it down on her desk and pulled at the string. It was fine silken thread, not cheap twine, and the canvas was almost new, still heavy and clean. Whoever sent it had not been stingy. Elsa unfolded the layers of protective wrapping, gasping as she saw what it contained.

It appeared to be a music box of exquisite craftsmanship. It looked brand-new, the details crisp and the carvings immaculate. Elsa could smell the freshness of both the paint and the sweet cedarwood. A single red ribbon was tied around it, holding in place an unsealed piece of parchment. Elsa slid the note out of the ribbon.

"'To Princess Anna of Arendelle,'" she read aloud. "'May the music of this gift remind you of the joy of your wedding day for many happy years.' It's signed with the initials K. V. D."

"It's not chocolate," said Uriel, "but my guess is she'll still like it quite a bit."

Elsa agreed with that assessment. She quashed her curiosity and resisted the urge to open the music box. The gift was not for her. She slid the note back under the ribbon and began carefully re-wrapping the layers of canvas.

"If the wedding gifts have started arriving, the guests can't be far behind," Uriel observed. "The ones you actually want to see, that is."

Elsa looked up at him as she tied off the string. "They already have," she said, smiling.

He grinned sheepishly. "I feel I owe you an apology, Your Majesty. I came here trying to cheer you up, and seemed to accomplish just the opposite."

"It's not your fault," Elsa replied. "I'm afraid I just don't make very good company of late."

"At the risk of being counterproductive, I have to disagree."

A brief laugh escaped her throat. "Flattery won't save you, Your Highness. We have a game to finish."

He waved at the half-empty board, where only Elsa's ice-forged pieces still stood. "Don't you mean start over? I appreciate your concern for the secrecy of my powers, by the way."

Elsa looked down, head tilted thoughtfully to one side. Her eyes narrowed. "Pawn. Pawn. Rook. Pawn. Queen's bishop. Pawn," she said, pointing in quick succession. "Your king, queen, and their pawns hadn't moved."

With a wave and a flicker of light, Uriel summoned the pieces exactly as she had described and took his seat. Elsa walked past the prince and around the corner of the desk, smiling at him as she returned to her own chair. "It's your move. You're not worried I'm cheating you?" she teased.

She had expected him to make a quip. Instead, he studied her thoughtfully for a moment. "No," he said at last. He looked down to watch his king's pawn advance, but didn't look back up. "I am a bit confused, though."

"Oh?" Elsa wondered. She placed her queen in the square in front of the pawn that had just moved, threatening that piece, as well as the king it had left three squares behind.

Uriel's own queen shifted into the space in front of his king, smacking her scepter into her open hand like a thug brandishing a club. "You have an excellent memory."

"And that confuses you?" Elsa said questioningly, sliding a rook into the square behind her queen.

"In a way," he said. A pawn on her left flank marched forward, intent on the promotion from reaching the back row. "You're intelligent."

Elsa moved her rook to the edge of the board, snuffing out the ambitious pawn. "Thank you. But if you want to distract me with flattery, you're going to have to try harder than that."

"Your people care a great deal for you. I don't imagine that's without cause." His remaining bishop crept over by a single square, putting it in position to strike at Elsa's queen.

"Try again," she said, as one of her knights ambushed the ambusher.

"Your sister loves you fiercely." A pawn claimed her knight.

Elsa had nothing to say to that. She gave a mental salute to the miniature Sven and Kristoff, who had done their duty. She moved her remaining bishop into the space to the right of her queen.

Uriel remained silent as well. His last rook glided across the board, making a desperate charge onto her side of the field against the pair of pawns that stood between him and the last row. Elsa ignored it, moving her miniature self forward, taking the pawn that stood between it and Uriel's queen.

The Black Prince blinked slowly, recognizing the dilemma that was unfolding. Their queens were now facing off. Elsa could attack, though that would mean losing her queen to his king. But if Uriel struck at her queen, his would immediately be taken by her bishop. He seemed unwilling to make that sacrifice, instead advancing his rook to take the second pawn in its path. In one more move, it could place her king in check. Nothing stood in its way other than the rising puff of steam from the pawn it had captured.

He finally looked up, grey eyes staring at her through the brief haze. "You're beautiful."

Elsa froze, hand hovering in midair above her rook. She felt her cheeks grow warm in spite of herself. "Well, _that_ might have worked, but I'm afraid it's already too late." She moved the rook forward from its place on the far left flank, all the way to the back of the board. "Check."

The trap was sprung, and the Black Prince's position was hopeless. Only one move would take him out of check, and even that would do nothing more than buy him time. "And mate in one. Well-played, Your Majesty." To his credit, he chose honorable surrender. His king silently broke ranks, kneeling before Elsa's queen and offering up its scepter with both hands in a gesture of supplication. Uriel himself sat back in his chair, dismissing his chessmen with a wordless wave.

"Thank you for the game," Elsa said. The prince looked strangely somber, to the point where not even his last desperate tease was enough to put her in a mood to gloat, even in jest.

Uriel nodded, gaze drifting to his left. His eyes swept across her desk. "It wasn't flattery, you know."

She blinked. "Oh," was all she managed to say. _You're beautiful_. The two simple words echoed in her mind, matched only by the unaccountable pounding of her heart.

"I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable," he explained. "But I really am confused. You have an extraordinary mind, as well as the love of your people and your sister. And you're a beautiful woman, Your Majesty. I don't know how someone with all those qualities could possibly think as little of themselves as you do."

Elsa silently cursed herself. The prince, who was not half so oblivious as he liked to joke about, had merely been trying to cheer her up with a series of gracious observations. And Elsa had allowed herself to be affected by the last as though she were some vain little girl who had never been paid a compliment. It wasn't as though she'd never heard the words before. Once upon a time, her mother had said it every morning as she'd brushed Elsa's hair in front of the vanity. Her father had said it every time she'd tried on a new dress. Anna had said it, complete with endearing stumbles, at the coronation ball. They were words, and that was all. Offered honestly – and she had no reason to doubt Uriel's sincerity, any more than she doubted her parents' or her sister's – they should be taken for what they were. How had her foreign minister once put it? _Words are wind._

Her heartbeat took on a different timbre as the rest of those words came rushing back. _Why do you think so little of yourself?_ Uriel had said, and all of a sudden she realized what question he'd really been asking.

It was not nearly so easy to answer.

"I… don't know," she admitted softly. Yes, she lacked confidence, and not without cause, but it would be unbecoming to sit there moaning to him about all her faults. Even though he wasn't looking at her, Elsa still glanced away, unwilling to risk the sight of disappointment in those sad storm-grey eyes. It was bad enough that she couldn't be the kind of person he seemed to see in her.

The question remained unanswered, even in her mind. "I don't know," she said again, this time with a shrug that looked more indifferent than it felt. "A better question might be why anyone thinks so highly of me. I've studied hard for what I know, which I'm proud of. I try to do the right thing for my people, and I guess they think that's enough. Anna is my sister, and we'd love one another no matter what. As for my looks, I can hardly take any credit for them. If anyone could, it'd be my parents."

"I can see that," Uriel said. There was a rustle of motion, and Elsa's gaze was drawn to the noise. The prince was standing at the back of her desk, picking up one of the two small portrait frames that stood in the corner.

One was of Anna, a miniature still-life done as she sat in one of the armchairs in the castle library. She was a bit younger, perhaps not quite sixteen. The regency council had commissioned portraits for both princesses after their parents had passed away. Anna had been hopeless sitting still, so they had tried to pose her reading a book, perhaps thinking that she'd do better with something to keep occupied. The next best thing had happened: Anna had fallen asleep. There was no way for any painting to capture Anna's vibrant energy, so the sight of her resting peacefully was the best portrait of her sister the queen could hope to keep on her desk.

The second picture, and the one Uriel was holding, was several years older. In fact, it was one of the few decorations that had stayed in place when Elsa had redone the royal suite over the winter. It had been captured some twenty years ago in the room they currently occupied. Behind the same desk and in the very chair in which Elsa now sat, as a matter of fact. It showed her father, young and vibrant, no older than Elsa was now. He was behind the desk of his study, a little girl perched on one side of his lap, with a large book occupying the rest. The artist had done a fine job portraying the king reading to his daughter, who stared at the book with rapt wonder.

It was Elsa's favorite picture. It lacked the stiff-backed nervousness that the king had displayed whenever he had posed otherwise, as in his coronation portrait or the painting commissioned after her parents' wedding. This one made him seem humbler, and somehow nobler in spite of it. More importantly, it showed him as he lived in Elsa's memory. Not as a king, but as her father.

"Is this you in the picture?" Uriel wondered.

"Yes," Elsa confirmed, not surprised that he would ask. In addition to her fascination with the book in her father's lap, the most prominent feature of the two-year-old girl in the portrait was a head of rich brown hair, thick and dark, held back with a purple hairband. "I was born with dark hair, just like my mother's," she explained. "It started to change not long after that was painted."

"Really?" Uriel asked, blinking as he glanced back and forth between her and the picture in his hands. "I know a child's hair can change a bit from when they're born. Somehow I doubt that was the case for you."

"You'd be right," Elsa said. She stood from her chair and walked toward the doors to the balcony. She pulled them open, basking for a moment in the wave of fresh air that swept inside. "That was when my powers began to grow stronger. There had been a few inexplicable incidents early on: frost on the bedding of my crib, snow falling around the mobile, even the fact that I never seemed to be cold. But it wasn't until then, when I was about three, that it became apparent that I'd been born with magic."

Uriel had set the picture back on her desk and joined her on the balcony, taking the space to her right. "I was about the same age when my magic became obvious. My hair never changed, though," the Black Prince said. "A good thing, too. In these outfits, I'd make a hideous blonde."

Elsa smiled, leaning with both arms against the chest-high railing. "You wouldn't rather have been the Golden Prince?"

"Too gaudy," he said, waving dismissively. "Though that's a better alternative than 'mister sunshine.'"

She laughed. "You'd have matched your kingdom's heraldry, at least."

"I'll leave that to Seraphim. I think we can agree she pulls it off better than I ever could. I may wear black, but she was born in red and gold."

A few wispy clouds were rolling in to mar the otherwise unblemished sky. The sun was still high and pleasant, though, and a faint westerly breeze was blowing, the only remnant of the gale that had battered Arendelle for the last few days. Elsa looked out on the castle courtyard and the bridge into the city beyond the gates, where she could make out the tiny shapes of people moving between the docks and the marketplace. "Is that why you call her 'little sunset'?" she wondered, surveying the prince out of the corner of her eye.

"Actually, I call her that because I can tell the 'little' part annoys her nowadays. Back when she _was_ little, though, I gave her the name because sunset was her first word."

"Really?" Elsa said, turning her head to regard him with open surprise. It was a strange first word for a child, even one born into the noble family of a land with a sunset on its crest.

"Mother passed away when Sera was only four months old, making her the woman of the house very early on," said Uriel, gazing thoughtfully up at the sky as he remembered. "She wasn't about to let that keep her down, though, so she made sure to let everyone know right away that she was ready to take her place as Lady of the Sunset City."

Elsa's eyes narrowed. Uriel kept staring at the sky. "You're joking, aren't you?"

He chuckled. "And you claim you've no talent for politics. Yes, Your Majesty, that is a lie I've told many times. But you're the first to call me on it."

Elsa gave a sniff of laughter. "It's mean to go spreading stories."

"Oh, I think that one is harmless enough. But I'm willing to share a secret, if you're willing to keep it."

She nodded solemnly, biting back a smile. "Of course."

He leaned a bit closer to her against the railing, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Her first word was my name. Well, it was actually something that sounded like 'ooh-ee,' but I take credit anyway. After all, Uriel is a bit of a mouthful for an infant."

"So is sunset," Elsa countered, though this time she knew he was telling the truth. It backed his case that Seraphim had told Elsa of how her brother had helped raise her. "But don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

"I appreciate that."

They fell into a companionable silence, listening to the faint noise of water lapping against the stone as the tide came in. It was a sound you could hear almost anywhere in Arendelle, as omnipresent as the shrill cries of the gulls in the summer. Above their heads, Elsa heard a rusty creak of protest from the weathervane as the wind shifted to the east.

"How about you, Your Highness?" she wondered, breaking the silence. "Can you keep a secret?"

"I can."

Still leaning against the railing, she took a breath, gathering her thoughts. "Father told me a story once, when I was eight years old. The gates had been shut for a few weeks by then, and most of the staff had been transferred to new jobs out in the city. We had sealed off the castle because of my magic."

"Why?" Uriel asked. "What happened?"

"Anna was five at the time, and in love with my powers in a way that even I never was. She knew the magic words that never failed to get me to come with her to play in the snow. Until the day that I slipped, and accidentally struck Anna with my powers while we played." Even since the coronation, this had not become common knowledge, not even to the staff. In fact, the only person Elsa had ever told the story in full had been Anna herself. She had sat down with her to explain the history of her magic, as well as what she understood of the modifications that had been made to her sister's memory. "My powers had been growing rapidly, so until I could learn to control them, we placed the castle in isolation."

"That's…" Uriel seemed at a loss for words. "I never knew," he said at last.

Elsa leaned down, crossing her arms along the railing and resting her chin atop them. "I spent years terrified of my powers. Of myself, because I couldn't control them. Do you remember how you felt, thinking the drought in Kristensand was your fault? Stretch that into a decade, only this time you know it really _is_ your fault. I felt so alone. But in a strange way, I look back on those years and remember them almost… happily. As bad as it was, people were safe. In those years, my magic never hurt Anna again."

The Black Prince said nothing. Elsa could not express how grateful she was for that. He merely leaned against the railing beside her, their elbows not quite touching across the narrow space of the balcony.

"But that's not the secret that I promised you, merely the backstory," Elsa said, shaking herself from melancholy. "After the gates were closed, I was almost relieved. But Anna was too young to understand. She didn't know why everyone had left, why she couldn't go outside except into the castle's gardens, or why I kept myself locked away in my room. She struggled to make everything go back to normal, as only a five-year-old Anna could, but it wasn't something she could change. When it didn't work, sometimes I'd hear her crying. That made me feel guilty. And that made me miserable. And _that_ made me angry.

"I was still just a child myself, despite how hard I tried to emulate my parents. I asked my father why Anna was so unhappy when all of us were in the same situation. He brought me here, to his study. He told me how proud he was of how I was handling the isolation, the sacrifices we all had to make. But he also explained that everyone reacts to the same thing in different ways." She glanced over her shoulder, nodding her head in the vague direction of the picture Uriel had returned to its place on the desk. "He told me about that portrait. For two weeks, the first painter they'd commissioned tried to get me to pose. I squirmed, I cried, I threw fits. Eventually, the man gave up. He refunded the advance and stormed off, swearing he'd never seen an infant so ill-behaved."

"Ill-behaved? You?" Uriel boggled. "I'd have an easier time picturing your office in a mess."

"I don't remember, but by all accounts I was a menace. Kai once told me he had nightmares," she said, smiling up at the prince.

He pondered that for a moment. "Liar."

She giggled. "About the nightmares, yes. Kai is the only person in the castle who sleeps less than I do. Anyway, I was a basket case, fussy and squalling over every little thing. Nothing calmed me; no toy, no music, no storybook. One day, desperate for peace, Father sat me down in his study and began reading to me."

"You just said storybooks didn't work," Uriel pointed out.

"They didn't," Elsa agreed. "Fables, fairy tales, and nursery rhymes did nothing. Father swore they actually made me worse. But he didn't read me a children's book. He grabbed the biggest, most boring, most impenetrably obtuse tome off his shelf. By the end of the first sentence, he said I had gone quiet as a mouse."

"Ha!" the Black Prince laughed aloud. "I knew it. You weren't fussy, you were _bored_."

"Maybe so. Regardless, my parents had found the secret. A new painter was brought in, and that portrait was taken. And I understood then that, even if we handled it differently, Anna, myself, and even my parents were all coping with our new life in different ways. I still took some pride in the fact that, from that day he first read to me, Father said I cried less and less, and never when he read to me from that book."

"And so a queen was born," said Uriel. "I wonder, to what august manuscript does Queen Elsa of Arendelle owe her regal bearing?"

Elsa smiled shyly, feeling an odd blush creep across her cheeks. "That would be the secret, Your Highness." She beckoned him closer, and he bent lower against the railing. Elsa glanced back into the study, as if someone might be trying to sneak in to learn her darkest secret. Even Anna didn't know _this_ story. Seeing no one, she leaned over to whisper in his ear. "_Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica_." She leaned back, a conspiratorial grin on her face. She was almost sure she saw a bit of a flush on Uriel's cheek.

The Black Prince turned his head to face her, blinking repeatedly. "You're telling me that, at the age of two, your father had to read you Sir Isaac Newton to keep you entertained?"

Elsa grinned, feeling the heat in her cheeks intensify. To balance that, she tried a disaffected shrug. "I was a curious child. Father was just glad it worked, up until I could read it for myself."

Uriel smiled as well. He looked up thoughtfully. "It is with books as with the fire in our hearths; we go to a neighbor to get the embers," he recited. His gaze met hers as he concluded, "And light it when we return home, pass it on to others, and it belongs to everyone."

The words jumped from her mind at once. "Voltaire!" she gasped. "I've been reading his collections of letters to catch up on my French. You never told me you knew his work."

He shrugged. "The secret of being a bore is to tell everything."

She slapped him on the arm. "Now you're just showing off again."

Uriel chuckled, giving her a lopsided smile as he rubbed the spot she'd struck. "You're stronger than you think," he said. "Not to mention stronger than you look."

Elsa accepted the compliment silently. And this time, at least, even her heart did not disagree.

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><p><strong>*AN*** - Word of God has said that Elsa without powers would have looked like her mother, but I have to give credit to Searlait's "Frozen - A Dark Retelling" for the idea of her hair changing after she's born. It makes sense, seeing how Anna's hair was changed both times she was struck, if you assume Elsa's powers grew from a very limited scope early on (I doubt she was throwing icicles around as an infant, and she couldn't have done even involuntary magic when her mother was pregnant without serious complications).


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